:;OtTft;*l. 


ALEK    &     ZKYCINA 


AN    AUTHENTIC    ACCOUNT   OF 


Cljmgs  Clja7  anir  Cljmuitta  f irtaininj 


AS  THEY  ARE  AND  HAVE  BEEN. 


BY  J.  B. 


An'  clever  chlels,  an"  bounle  hizxies, 
Are  bred  in  sic  a  way  as  this  is. 

BUK>S. 


BOSTON: 
PHILLIPS,  SAMPSON  AND    COMPANY, 

IS    WINTER    STREET. 

1856. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1856,  by 

PHILLIPS,    SAMPSON    &   CO., 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


Stereotyped  by 

BOBART    &    BOBBINS, 

Mew  England  Type  md  Stereotype  Founds!/, 

BOSTON. 


So 
/MY       SISTER, 

WHOSE   GOOD   WORKS   HATE  SHAMED    MY  IDLENESS   AND   PROVOKED   ME  TO    EMULATION, 

ASD   FROM    WHOSE   VIRTUES   I   HAVE   ENDEAVORED    TO   DRAW  ATTRACTIVE 

PICTURES   OF   GOODNESS,   I   DEDICATE   WHATEVER  IK  THIS 

VOLUME  HER   JUDGMENT   OR   PARTIALITT 

MAY    AfPROVK. 


WOLFSDEN. 


MIDNIGHT  has  passed.  Morning  dawns.  The  fading  stars 
twinkle  idly  in  their  blue  depths,  or  melt  from  view  in  the 
spreading  light.  The  fringed  clouds  glow  in  the  eastern  sky 
like  the  bright  wings  of  Apollo's  steeds,  ascending  their  star- 
paved  way.  The  god  of  Day  —  of  the  golden  harp  and  silver 
bow  —  appears.  His  swift  arrows  pierce  and  illuminate  the 
misty  morning.  They  glance  from  ocean's  breast  and  gild  its 
surging  foam.  The  iceberg's  towering  pinnacles  receive  and 
scatter  his  million  shafts.  The  arctic  shores,  cold  and  deso 
late,  where  the  waves  dash  their  congealing  spray,  where  the 
white  bear  snatches  the  unwary  seal  from  his  lurking-place ; 
the  snow-piled  mountains,  receding  far,  and  resting  in  tho 
majesty  of  desolation  against  the  northern  sky;  the  wide- 
extended  plains,  tracked  with  the  footprints  and  echoing  with 
the  howls  of  the  gaunt  fox  and  famished  wolf;  the  dark  and 
dwarfed  forests  of  fir,  where  the  reindeer  gathers  his  mossy 
food,  — all  the  inhospitable  realms  of  Winter's  despotic  reign 
greet  with  grim  defiance  the  god  of  the  bright  bow  and  golden 
song.  Yet  upward  ascend  his  coursers,  bearing  the  bright 
banners  of  morning  —  smiling  in  victory  upon  the  sullen  array. 


8  WOLISD1N. 

New  England's  shores  catch  and  reflect  the  glowing  smile. 
Here  Winter  rules  his  divided  empire  with  a  gentler  hand. 
Like  a  stern  father,  —  stern,  but  beneficent,  —  he  blesses  even 
while  he  frowns.  His  severe  lessons  teach  us  wisdom,  prompt 
us  to  effort,  compel  us  to  industry.  He  hardens  our  frames, 
and  stimulates  our  energies.  He  reminds  us  of  the  duties  of 
mutual  kindness  and  benevolence.  He  gives  occasions  of 
social  intercourse,  diffusing  enjoyment  and  promoting  im 
provement.  He  nerves  the  enterprising  will.  He  inspires 
the  generous  thought.  He  gives  vigor  to  the  active  frame. 
He  is  the  father  of  New  England  character,  as  the  Summer 
is  the  genial  mother.  Though  we  better  love  the  warm  lap 
of  our  smiling  mother,  let  us  no  less  thank  the  sterner  father 
for  the  discipline  of  manly  virtue. 

Morning  dawns  in  Wolfsden.  It  is  time.  The  night  has 
been  long.  The  beasts  in  the  stall  have  consumed  their 
nightly  fodder,  and  chewed  the  cud  of  patience,  while  the 
frost  has  silvered  their  hoary  brows,  and  hung  with  icicles 
their  whiskered  cheeks.  The  silly  sheep  torpidly  wait  the 
morning,  each  with  his  nose  buried  in  the  woolly  warmth  of 
close-crowded  mates.  The  feathered  brood,  cramped  upon 
their  high  perch,  have  counted  with  unerring  instinct  the  last 
hour  of  night,  and  their  high-crested  lord  wakes  the  morning 
with  a  cottage-rousing  crow. 

Awake,  Alek !  Arouse  thec !  Come  from  the  land  of 
dreams !  Arise  from  the  slumberous  pillow !  A  new  day 
dawns,  bringing  duties,  cares,  and  enjoyments.  The  golden 
moments  of  youth's  treasury  are  gliding  away.  Up  !  count, 
secure  them ! 

Alek  needs  no  second  call.  The  bounce  of  his  elastic  feet 
upon  the  floor  echoes  to  the  last  note  of  chanticleer.  With 


WOLFSDEN.  9 

the  iron-bound  bucket  he  has  drawn  a  copious  cosmetic  from 
the  deep  well,  and  dashed  his  ruddy  cheeks  and  youthful 
limbs  in  unsparing  profusion.  His  frame  glows  with  intenser 
life. 

The  fire  smokes,  and  snaps,  and  sparkles,  and  roars,  in  the 
ample  kitchen  chimney.  The  red  light  reflects  from  the 
frosty  window-panes,  from  the  polished  platters  ranged  upon 
the  dressers,  from  the  gilded  figures  and  round-visaged  moon 
upon  the  tall  and  venerable  clock,  and  sends  cheerful  gleams 
abroad  upon  the  snowy  landscape. 

Shaggy  Lion,  with  his  big  paws  and  depending  ears,  his 
wide -mouth  and  ivory  teeth,  is  awake,  and  ready  for  tho 
fights  and  the  frolics  of  the  day.  Tabby  mews  from  the 
cellar,  where  she  has  guarded  the  public  weal  from  stealthy 
mice  and  marauding  rats.  Alek  answers  their  greetings,  and 
hastens  to  his  expectant  subjects  in  the  barn.  From  the  high 
mow  he  pitches  huge  heaps  of  hay  before  the  hungry  herd. 
The  bleating  sheep,  the  lowing  kine,  and  the  whinnying 
horses,  are  bountifully  supplied.  Down  from  their  high  roost 
fly  a  various  brood,  —  cackling  hens,  gobbling  turkeys,  and 
screaming  pintadids  mingle  their  various  language  in  one 
unanimous  call  for  food.  Alek  scatters  corn  with  liberal 
hand,  and  they  hasten  with  eagerness  to  fill  their  crops. 

Here  come  Billy  and  Tommy,  racing  and  shouting  through 
the  snow,  barefooted,  barenecked,  with  only  their  trousers 
buttoned  about  their  waists,  as  if  playing  among  new-mown 
hay  in  sultry  June. 

"  Back  to  your  beds,  you  young  dogs  !  "  roared  Alek,  "  or 
I  '11  duck  you  in  the  watering-trough.  Hurry,  or  I  '11  set 
Lion  on  you,  you  ragamuflins  !  " 

Billy  and   Tommy  are   not   much   terrified  with  Alck's 


10  WOLFSDEN. 

threats,  but  their  tingling  toes  incline  them  to  obedience, 
and  they  retreat  to  the  kitchen  fire,  to  the  disappointment  of 
Lion,  who  had  already  joined  their  frolic  in  the  snow,  and 
wonders  why  they  should  so  soon  leave  the  sport. 

A  mighty  wood-pile  rises  in  substantial  dignity,  and  bounds 
tho  door-yard  on  the  east.  The  solid  trunks  of  tall  trees, 
only  lately  towering  in  their  native  forest,  now  lie  ready  for 
the  axe.  Well  can  Alek  wield  the  keen  axe,  and  sever  the 
knotted  boughs,  and  rive  the  huge  logs. 

Billy  and  Tommy  again  appear,  now  dressed,  buskined, 
capped,  and  mittened,  for  work.  On  their  hand-sled  they 
heap  the  severed  and  rifted  wood,  and  with  merry  gambols 
draw  it  to  the  shed,  where,  piled  in  compact  tiers,  it  will 
slowly  season  for  future  use. 

What  bright  picture  of  the  morning  appears  in  the  open 
doorway  ?  0,  Frances !  beautiful  amid  your  clustering  locks 
of  gold,  sending  radiance  from  your  soul-speaking  eyes  of 
blue,  cheering  every  heart  with  your  sweet  voice,  how  wel 
come  the  summons  to  breakfast  from  lips  like  yours  !  Alek 
answers  the  invitation  ere  her  voice  can  reach  him ;  he  buries 
the  axe  deep  in  the  massive  log,  clasps  his  sister  in  his  arms, 
and,  with  a  fond  kiss,  tosses  her  to  the  kitchen.  Here  is 
spread  the  bountiful  table.  Ever  may  such  a  table  be  sur 
rounded  by  hearts  as  good  and  kind,  and  faces  as  bright  with 
pleasant  thoughts,  as  these !  How  various  their  characters, 
and  yet  all  how  good !  The  father  and  mother,  slowly  verg 
ing  toward  old  age,  rich  in  the  experience  and  reflections  of 
well-spent  years ;  rich  in  the  respect  and  love  of  devoted 
children ;  richer  than  all  in  the  hope  and  full  assurance  of  a 
better  home  beyond  this  mortal  life.  Long  have  they^brought 
their  spirits  into  subordination  and  union  with  the  spirit  of 


WOLF&DEN.  11 

peace  and  love.  Long  have  they  taught  by  their  example 
the  excellence  of  their  faith. 

Helen,  —  fair,  placid,  sedate,  good  Helen,  —  why  is  she  the 
last  one  noticed  ?  Is  it  because  she  is  always  so  exactly 
where  she  should  be  and  what  she  should  be,  and  her  pres 
ence  so  essential,  that,  like  the  blue  sky  and  the  pleasant  sun 
shine,  we  think  of  her  only  when  we  miss  her  ?  Helen,  mild 
and  calm  as  a  summer's  morning,  seldom  speaking,  yet  ever 
expressing  good  and  wise  thoughts  through  your  soul-fraught 
countenance !  0,  if  all  were  not  so  good,  you  would  be  the 
best  of  all ! 

Pour  the  steaming  coffee !  Spread  the  brown  toast !  Slice 
the  wheaten  loaf!  Plenty  reigns. 

0,  love-encircled  and  love-breathing  family  !  how  blessed 
with  all  that  gives  health  to  the  body  and  joy  to  the  soul  is 
your  cheerful  board  ! 


Thus  far  had  I  proceeded,  when  an  inquisitive  face  came 
peering  over  the  page  ;  and  soon  a  remonstrating  voice 
exclaimed, 

"  Why,  brother,  is  this  the  way  you  begin  your  long- 
promised  history  of  Wolfsden  ?  Here  you  have  already  put 
in  the  whole  of  Deacon  Arbor's  family,  with  not  the  slightest 
account  of  who  they  are,  or  where  they  live,  or  when  they 
were  born,  or  any  other  of  the  proper  beginnings  of  a  story ! 
If  you  set  out  in  this  prancing,  curveting  style,  when  will 
you  get  to  your  story's  end,  and  who  can  follow  you,  or  guess 
where  you  are  going  ?  " 

"  Dear  sister,"  said  I,  "  it 's  the  very  thing  I  do  not  want 
you  to  guess.  I  am  preparing  pleasant  surprises,  unexpected 
results,  astonishing  developments,  and  astounding  catastro- 


1'2  WOLFSDKN. 

phes,  —  for  what  else  do  readers  care  for,  in  these  days  of 
wonderment  ?  " 

"  Poh,  brother  !  there  are  common-sense  folks,  now-a-days, 
as'many  as  ever,  though  book-makers  seem  to  forget  them. 
Write  a  plain,  straight-forward,  common-sense  history  of 
Wolfsden,  with  a  genealogy  of  all  the  inhabitants,  and  then 
every  family  in  town  will  subscribe  for  a  copy,  and  you  will 
be  famous." 

"  Dear  sister  mine,  your  words  are  inspired  with  wisdom. 
Go  and  borrow  every  family  register  in  Wolfsden,  and  in  the 
mean  time  I  will  begin  at  the  beginning,  and  our  town  shall 
be  chronicled  according  to  rule." 

"  That 's  a  sensible  brother,"  said  my  sisterly  critic ;  "  but 
it  would  be  a  pity  to  throw  away  what  you  have  already 
written.  Can't  you  alter  it  a  little,  and  let  it  stand  for  the 
preface  ?  You  know  that  nobody  ever  reads  the  preface ;  so 
it  may  as  well  be  nonsense  as  anything  else." 

"  Sister,"  said  I,  a  little  piqued,  "  I  will  have  it  printed 
where  it  shall  be  read.  Let  me  tell  you,"  said  I,  holding  up 
the  sheet,  "  that  this  is  very  fine  writing,  only  a  little  too 
high-flown  for  your  understanding.  I  will  have  it  for  the 
first  chapter  in  the  book  ;  —  and,  since  I  must  make  another 
beginning,  I  will  call  this  the  PRELIMINARY  FLOURISH,  and 
mark  it  P.  F." 

"  Dear  brother,"  said  the  kind  creature,  "  print  it  where 
you  will.  There  must  be  something  in  every  book,  as  you 
say,  that  nobody  can  understand.  I  have  always  found  it  so ; 
and  it  may  as  well  be  at  the  beginning  as  elsewhere,  for  then 
we  can  the  easier  skip  it.  So  I  '11  go  and  borrow  the  geneal 
ogies,  and  you  may  begin  the  beginning." 


THE    BEGINNING. 


WOLFSDEN  is  a  quiet  nook  among  the  mountains  in  Maine, 
where  the  sun  delights  to  prop  himself  among  the  tall  trees, 
while  he  peeps  down  the  green  valleys,  and  sees  his  face 
reflected  in  many  a  winding  stream  and  placid  lake.  Toward 
the  south  and  east  the  view  extends  to  a  far-distant  horizon, 
where,  aided  by  a  telescope,  you  may  see  the  sky  shut  down 
upon  the  ocean. 

Toward  the  north  and  west  the  high  and  rugged  hills  of 
Wolfsden  are  surmounted  by  higher  hills  beyond,  which  grow 
more  and  more  wild  and  savage  as  they  approach  the  White 
Hills,  whose  vast  and  lofty  chain  seems,  at  this  distance,  but 
as  the  highest  step  in  a  series  of  ascending  mountains,  which, 
beginning  far  toward  the  east,  rise  by  regular  gradation  to 
the  clouds. 

Scenes  of  rural  beauty  are  more  delightful  when  contrasted 
with  the  sublime  and  terrible.  Along  the  base  of  those  high 
and  desert  mountains  are  scattered  the  cultivated  farms  of  a 
happy  and  well-instructed  people.  Primitive  and  plain  in 
their  habits,  and  moderate  in  their  aspirations,  they  pass 
their  time  chiefly  in  providing  things  convenient  for  the  pres 
ent  life,  and  in  preparation  for  the  life  to  come. 
2 


14  W  0  L  J1  S  D  E  N  . 

There  is  no  strong  dividing  line  separating  people  into 
classes.  Each  family  owns  a  farm  of  a  hundred  or  two  of 
acres,  divided  into  fields,  pastures,  and  wood-lot,  with  house, 
barn,  orchard,  garden,  and  other  improvements,  of  which  the 
greater  or  less  apparent  perfection  is  the  chief  external  sign 
of  abundance  or  deficiency  in  worldly  goods. 

I  dwell  in  mind  amidst  those  scenes  of  my  early  days,  for 
there  my  eyes  first  saw  the  light  and  my  first  ideas  were 
awakened.  I  knew  the  sweets  of  home  affection ;  of  a 
mother's  love  and  sister's  fondness.  There  I  found  friend 
ships  around  me,  and  became  conscious  of  the  emotions  which 
beauty  can  inspire.  There  were  genial  minds,  and  kind 
hearts,  and  loving  eyes,  among  my  school  companions ;  and 
when  lessons  were  learned,  what  else  was  left  to  the  ever- 
busy  mind  of  childhood,  but  mischief,  or  merriment,  or  love  ? 
But,  under  the  birchen  rule  of  a  country  schoolmaster,  mis 
chief  and  merriment  are  dangerous  resources,  while  love  — 
quiet,  deferential,  unspoken  love  —  has  nothing  of  danger, 
and  yet  fills  the  void  of  the  earnest  heart,  and  gives  fleetness 
to  the  wings  of  weary  time. 

I  am  to  speak  little  of  myself  in  this  story,  —  little  of  my 
self,  and  nothing  of  my  love.  It  was  unspoken,  and  so  it 
shall  remain.  The  sweet  idea  of  her  soul-revealing  eyes  as 
she  met  my  admiring  look ;  how  happy  I  was  to  see  her 
enter  the  school-house ;  how  I  knew  her  neat  and  pretty 
hood  among  the  flock,  as  I  saw  afar  off  their  merry  coming  ; 
how  a  grace  and  excellence  seemed  to  surround  and  separate 
her  from  all  others  ;  her  mild,  and  yet  intellectual  look  ;  her 
rosy,  and  yet  reserved  and  unapproachable  lips ;  her  agile, 
and  yet  gentle  and  graceful  motion ;  her  knowing  that  I 


\f  0  L  F  S  1>  E  N  .  15 

loved  her,  and  yet  minding  it  so  little,  while  my  soul  was 
swelling  with  the  magnitude  of  its  emotion  ! 

Ah,  the  beautiful  spring  of  life  is  past !  Its  lovely  blos 
soms  are  perished,  and  there  is  no  fruit  to  glad  my  autumn. 
Yet  I  cherish  the  fragrance  of  their  memory.  I  will  not 
speak  of  our  pleasant  times,  when  the  boys  and  girls  of  our 
neighborhood  assembled  to  spend  a  winter  evening,  how  I 
managed  to  be  near  her  ;  and  when  the  apples  were  named, 
that  in  eating  them  we  might  know  by  the  number  of  the 
seeds  our  present  feelings  and  future  relations  to  each  other, 
how  happy  I  was  when  some  one  would  give  my  name  to  her 
apple,  and  the  seeds  would  come  out  plump,  and  read,  "  He 
loves,  she  loves,  both  love ; "  and  how,  when  another  name 
instead  of  my  own  was  so  blessed,  I  pretended  to  care  noth 
ing  about  it.  And  when  we  separated,  how  eager  was  I  to 
be  ready  with  my  arm  to  escort  her  home  before  another 
should  usurp  my  place  ! 

Nor  how  I  sought  occasion  to  be  by  her  side  when  study 
ing  her  lesson ;  and  when  she  was  puzzled  with  a  sum,  to 
take  the  pencil  from  her  dear  fingers,  or  perchance  from  her 
sweet  lips,  and,  first  putting  it  to  my  own,  which  she  would 
not  notice,  proceed  to  put  down  the  figures  as  they  should  be, 
tind  whisper  arithmetical  explanations,  while  tenderer  words 
were  trembling  on  my  tongue. 

Why  should  I  speak  of  this  ;  or  how,  when  roses  were  in 
bloom,  and  strawberries  were  ripe,  I  found  the  fairest  and 
picked  the  ripest  ever  by  her  side  ;  or  how  I  watched  her  in 
meeting,  and  forgot  the  text ;  and  at  singing-school  heard  no 
melody  but  hers ;  and  —  but  I  am  determined  to  say  nothing 
about  it.  Thirty  summers  have  passed  away  since  those 
bright  spring-days  of  my  life.  I  hear  and  feel  the  blasts  of 


16  W  0  L  F  S  I>  K  X  . 

autumn,  and  Frances  Arbor  is  gone  where  she  should  be,  — 
where  spring,  and  youth,  and  loveliness,  are  perpetual. 

Every  one  has  noticed  that,  even  in  the  most  rustic  popula 
tion,  some  families  seem  endowed  with  a  natural  refinement 
of  character,  extending  not  only  to  personal  manners,  but  to 
sentiments  and  feelings  ;  and  that  even  in  the  same  family 
some  individuals  will  excel  others  in  these  respects.  This 
was  strikingly  shown  in  the  family  of  Deacon  Arbor.  Fran 
ces  was  as  graceful  as  the  sparrow  which  flitted  around  her 
sunny  head,  and  agile  as  the  pet  lamb  which  delighted  to 
frisk  about  her  path ;  while  Alexander,  or  Alek,  as  we  called 
her  eldest  brother,  was  as  awkward  as  his  two-year-old  steers 
which  he  exercised  daily  in  trying  to  "  break,"  and  which,  as 
if  conscious  of  their  master's  awkwardness,  acted  as  if  deter 
mined  to  break  him.  Alek,  however,  was  victorious;  the 
steers  became  docile,  well-behaved  oxen,  while  Alek  grew  up, 
as  far  as  externals  go,  an  awkward,  lubberly,  left-handed 
blunderhead. 

But  Alek  had  solid  qualities  of  heart  and  mind,  as  well  as 
of  person.  He  was  four  years  older  than  Frances,  and  two 
years  more  than  myself,  and  was  one  of  the  most  successful 
competitors  in  the  athletic  and  often  boisterous  games  and 
exercises  of  our  school-intermissions  and  half-holidays.  I 
owe  to  his  good-will  and  strong  arm  much  of  my  exemption 
from  the  tyranny  and  violence  which  my  imprudence  often 
provoked,  and  my  strength  could  not  repel.  It  might  be 
that  I  won  his  partiality  by  the  frequent  assistance  which  I 
bestowed  upon  his  "  sums  "  and  other  lessons;  but  I  loved  to 
refer  it  to  a  more  flattering  motive,  —  the  kind  partiality  of 
Frances,  whom  he  loved  as  such  a  sister  should  be  loved. 

Ah,  Alek  !  genial,  generous  and  warm-hearted  bear,  in  your 


WOLFS  DEN.  17 

shaggy  coat !  How  shall  I  describe  you,  that  others  may  love 
you  as  I  did,  in  spite  of  your  rough  and  rustic  garb  ?  And 
yet  you  were  not  so  awkward,  after  all,  only  when  you  had 
on  your  Sunday  coat,  and  gay  vest,  and  shining  hat  and  boots, 
and  no  place  where  to  put  your  great,  brown  hands,  and  no 
way  to  apply  your  great,  ox-like  strength.  A  whale  or  a 
porpoise  is  ungraceful  when  out  of  water,  but  in  his  native 
element  he  is  quite  at  home.  So  with  Alek.  Who  could 
swing  the  axe  in  the  forest  or  at  the  wood-pile,  or  the  scytho 
in  the  meadow,  with  better  grace  than  he  ?  Or  who  could 
guide  the  plough  or  handle  the  hoe  with  more  dexterity  ?  Or, 
if  we  come  to  good  looks,  who  had  redder  cheeks,  or  brighter 
eyes,  or  whiter  teeth,  or  curlier  hair,  or  a  more  eternally 
good-natured,  half  charitable,  half  self-complacent  laugh,  like 
one  who  thinks  pretty  well  of  everybody,  and  very  well  of 
himself?  For,  however  diffident,  and  deferential,  and  even 
self-depreciating,  his  deportment  might  appear  abroad,  and  in 
his  Sunday  suit,  yet,  when  at  home  and  in  his  working  dress, 

—  or  -undress,  for  his  coat  was  always  off,  and  generally  his 
vest  and  hat,  —  he  appeared  sufficiently  confident  of  himself, 
and  much  as  one  born  to  command,  not  oxen  merely,  but  men, 

—  that  is,  workmen,  the  only  kind  of  men  with  whom  he  really 
cared  to  have  anything  to  do. 

And  then,  too,  though  unskilled  in  ready  and  graceful 
speech,  Alek  could  feel  and  cherish  the  emotions  of  a  great 
heart,  —  a  heart  seemingly  formed  by  nature  in  a  rustic  work 
shop,  but  where,  as  everywhere  else  in  this  rustic  region, 
there  was  an  abundance  of  material,  of  the  soundest  and  best 
quality.  As  he  went  forth  at  early  dawn  with  axe,  or  hoe, 
or  scythe,  or  with  whip  beside  his  team,  to  the  business  of 
tho  day,  attended  perhaps  by  a  hired  man  or  his  boy-brothers, 
2* 


18  WOLFS  DEN. 

or  only  by  his  constant  companion,  the  heavy,  shaggy,  half- 
Indian  and  half-Newfoundland  dog,  Lion,  who  everybody 
said  was  like  his  master  in  knowing  more  than  he  could 
tell  —  wherever  Alek  might  be,  and  however  employed,  the 
sense  of  an  ever-present  and  all-seeing  Power  was  ever  with 
him ;  not  a  terror  or  restraint,  but  a  high  companion  and 
friend,  —  a  friend  possessing  every  power  but  that  of  injus 
tice  or  unkindness  ;  one  with  whom  he  might  happily  and 
profitably  commune  at  any  moment  and  all  the  time,  or  whom 
he  might  neglect  and  turn  his  thoughts  away  from  at  any 
time,  without  giving  offence,  though  with  great  loss  to  him 
self.  He  saw  in  the  dewy  grass,  in  the  fresh  morning  flowers, 
in  the  merry  birds  flitting  among  the  branches,  in  the  brisk 
squirrel,  who,  secure  in  his  lofty  perch,  chattered  a  defiant 
reply  to  the  big  and  shaggy  Lion  barking  a  good-natured 
good-morning  beneath  his  tree,  —  in  all  these,  and  in  every 
thing  around  and  beyond  him,  Alek  saw  the  unfailing  good 
ness  and  the  persevering  workmanship  of  his  great  and 
unseen,  but  not  unknown,  companion  and  friend.  And  he 
felt  that,  in  the  companionship  of  nature's  God,  there  could 
be  no  want  of  society ;  and  with  the  evidences  of  His  works 
everywhere  about  him,  it  was  a  noble  business  to  WORK.  And 
as  he  thought  of  this  great  Companion,  and  how  his  own  com 
prehension  was  enlarged  by  communing  with  him,  and  in 
creased  knowledge  gave  increased  power  of  comprehension,  he 
thought  how  excellent  it  was  to  gain  much  knowledge  and 
enlarge  the  resources  and  the  power  of  thought ;  and  he 
resolved  to  know  all  that  he  could  learn  from  nature,  or  men, 
or  books.  He  did  not  wish  to  change  his  pursuits  or  position 
in  life,  for  he  was  content  with  both,  and  had  not  thought 
that  there  might  be  a  worthier  or  happier.  The  germ  of 


WOLFSDEN.  10 

restless  worldly  ambition  had  not  yet  begun  to  develop  itself 
within  him. 

But  yet  he  knew  well  that  there  was  a  busy  and  ambitious, 
an  exciting  and  magnificent  world,  afar  off,  beyond  his  humble 
and  happy  sphere.  Beyond  the  hills  of  his  father's  farm, 
and  the  higher  hiils  of  neighboring  farms,  successively  swell 
ing  to  mountains  toward  the  north,  arose  the  vast,  chain  whose 
dark,  forest-clad  sides  ascended  and  blended  with  the  gray 
mist  and  ihe  blue  sky,  till  their  white  tops  were  lost  in  the 
clouds.  Beyond  these,  he  knew  that  the  road  through  the 
"  Notch"  led  to  the  busy  tumult  of  a  very  different  kind  of 
life,  —  to  gay  and  populous  towns,  and  proud  and  wealthy 
cities,  filled  with  the  commerce  and  fed  with  the  riches  which 
the  St.  Lawrence  receives  from  opposite  sides  of  the  great 
world. 

The  Saco,  too,  rolls  its  impetuous  waters  from  amidst  those 
mountains  on  the  hither  side,  now  winding  its  dark  and  devi 
ous  way  through  trackless  forests,  undisturbed  by  man  or 
animal,  except  by  the  leaping  of  the  salmon,  or  the  smaller 
fry  of  the  finny  tribe,  or  by  the  plash  of  their  fierce  and  cun 
ning  pursuers,  the  otter,  or  mink,  or  hawk,  or  by  the  rush 
of  the  timorous  deer  from  the  gaunt  pursuing  wolf,  or  the 
crossing  of  the  prowling  bear  or  stately  moose,  —  unfre 
quented  by  man  or  animal,  except  by  the  wild  beast  or  Indi 
an,  —  ever  rushing,  and  eddying,  and  rolling  over  its  rocky 
or  sandy  bed,  now  dashing  over  an  opposing  precipice,  now 
leaping  and  chafing  in  white  foam  down  a  long  and  rocky 
descent,  now  seeming  to  pause  a  moment  in  the  peaceful 
bosom  of  a  dark-fringed  and  white-shored,  quiet  lake,  —  yet 
ever  through  deep  forests,  or  over  opposing  precipices,  01 


20  \VOLFSDKN. 

down  steep  rapids,  or  through  quiet  lakes,  or  amid  green 
meadows,  roiling  its  waters  to  the  ocean. 

As  Alek  would  sometimes  visit  its  summer  solitude,  or 
skate  upon  its  wintry  expanse  of  ice,  he  would  think  to  what 
strange  scenes  and  agitating  pursuits  this  river's  course,  or 
yonder  mountain-pass,  might  lead  him,  and  how,  perhaps, 
his  sagacity  to  discern,  and  perseverance  to  strive,  and 
strength  to  do,  might  find  or  force  a  path  to  distinction 
among  the  striving  crowd ;  for  Alek,  as  has  been  intimated, 
was  not  of  a  disposition  to  distrust  his  own  powers,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  had  much  of  that  feeling  of  capability  which 
vigorous  youth  and  rustic  inexperience  usually  inspire  even 
in  the  most  unassuming  .persons.  Yet  he  felt  no  temptation 
to  engage  in  the  world's  strife ;  he  clung  to  his  quiet  home, 
to  the  peace  and  plenty  of  his  paternal  roof,  to  the  constant 
and  careful  love  of  his  honored  and  venerated  parents,  the 
watchful  affection  of  his  elder  sister,  the  endearing  fondness 
of  Frances,  whom  everybody  loved,  and  to  the  boys,  Billy 
and  Tommy,  who,  whatever  others  might  think,  looked  upon 
Alek  as  their  all-endowed  and  all-accomplished  leader  and 
instructor. 

We  will  not  further  describe  the  different  members  of  the 
family  to  the  reader,  until  they  have  occasion  to  appear  in 
the  coming  incidents  of  this  history.  There  was  nothing 
very  peculiar  in  the  others.  Frances  was  chiefly  remarkable 
for  her  grace  and  loveliness ;  and  Alek  chiefly  so,  at  least  to 
the  generality  of  people,  for  his  awkwardness  and  homeliness, 
although  nature  had  given  him  a  form  and  features  which 
art  might  rejoice  to  train  and  polish,  and  place  among  the 
favorites  of  fashion. 

In  every  New  England  town  there  is  a  place  where  its  in- 


WOLFSDEN.  21 

•  flucnce  and  fashion  centre.  It  is  generally  near  the  territorial 
centre,  and  is  known  as  "  The  Village,"  "  The  Corner,"  or 
sometimes  "  The  Meeting-house ;  "  this  latter  appellation 
being  derived  from  its  church  edifice,  which  is  the  chief  archi 
tectural  ornament  of  the  town,  and  always  on  Sundays  and 
holidays  the  great  centre  to  which  all  worthy  people  converge 
for  worship  and  social  reunion.  The  town-house,  with  the 
selectmen's  and  town-clerk's  office,  and  generally  a  tavern,  a 
store  or  two,  where  all  varieties  of  merchandise  are  sold, 
a  few  mechanics'  shops  and  houses,  a  physician's,  and  per 
haps  a  lawyer's  office,  sometimes  a  high  school,  and  a  few 
houses  of  the  more  wealthy  or  aspiring  class,  combine  to  give 
it  an  air  of  magnificence  in  the  eyes  of  home-born  and  home- 
staying  townsmen.  Here,  of  course,  is  to  be  found  whatever 
pretension  of  gentility  the  town  aifords.  There  is  enough  of 
society  for  emulation,  and  comparison,  and  criticism,  and  what 
ever  else  of  good  or  evil  grows  out  of  social  proximity.  Here 
the  singers  meet  for  a  weekly  concert.  Here  is  the  quarterly 
military  training,  and  here  the  annual  speeches  and  guns  in 
honor  of  our  glorious  independence  are  fired  off,  and  the 
occasional  ball,  or  "  sociable,"  is  held.  To  each  town  this 
central  village  is  what  the  capital  is  to  the  state,  —  a  place 
which  all  regard  with  a  blended  feeling  of  pride,  jealousy,  and 
admiration. 

Our  neighborhood  was  somewhat  remote  from  the  centre 
of  the  town,  so  that  we  generally  rode,  when  business,  or 
recreation,  or  devotion,  called  us  thither.  In  winter,  Alek 
would  delight  to  harness  his  favorite  colts  —  a  spirited  and 
well-matched  pair  —  to  the  big  "  pung,"  and,  filling  it  with  all 
the  younger  members  of  the  family,  and  smuggling  in,  when 
possible,  a  fair  cousin  or  two,  give  loose  rein,  and  scamper 


22  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

away  through  clouds  of  snow,  and  perilous  drifts,  with  boys, 
girls,  horses,  and  the  faithful  Lion,  all  equally  zealous  and 
eager  in  the  duty  of  Sunday  devotions,  and  quite  outrunning 
the  zeal  of  the  father  and  mother,  the  staid  deacon  and  his 
placid  wife,  and  the  serious  mare  that  followed  soberly  be 
hind.  Yet  often  in  such  cases  it  might  be  seen  how  zeal 
outruns  discretion,  verifying  the  maxim,  "  the  more  haste 
the  worse  speed,"  as  when  a  pair  of  high-mettled  steeds  are 
harnessed  to  a  "pung"  filled  with  not  too  serious  boys  and 
girls,  and  driven  by  a  Jehu  who  fears  a  snow-bank  as  a  pig 
fears  a  clover-field.  Were  there  not  some  smashings,  and 
some  overturnings,  and  some  premature  buryings,  and  some 
unexpected  resurrections  ?  And  did  not  Alek  always  find  a 
plausible  reason  for  such  disasters,  though  the  others  declared 
he  did  it  on  purpose  ?  There  are  many  reminiscences  of 
that  sort,  which  we,  surviving  relics  of  those  giddy  days, 
recall  to  each  others'  recollection  in  our  sober  meetings. 

We  always  noticed  that  these  accidents  never  happened 
when  Margaret  Murray  was  of  our  party.  She  was  the  only 
daughter  of  a  neighbor,  distantly  related,  who  lived  about  a 
mile  from  Deacon  Arbor's,  in  the  direction  opposite  from  the 
meeting-house.  She  would  sometimes  visit  her  cousin  Fran 
ces  of  a  Saturday,  and  pass  the  night,  and  would,  of  course, 
be  one  of  the  party  to  fill  the  "  pung,"  and  share  the  perils 
of  the  Sunday  pilgrimage  of  devotion.  At  such  times, 
though  the  colts  would  prance  as  proudly  and  fly  as  swiftly 
through  the  snow  as  ever,  yet  the  pung  would  keep  right-side 
up,  and  bring  its  lively  freight  safe  to  the  meeting-house 
steps ;  so  that,  by  oft-repeated  observation,  it  came  to  be 
understood  that  the  pung  would  not  tip  over  when  Margaret 
Murray  was  in  it.  Alek  always  had  a  reason,  but  the  girls 


WOLFSDEN.  23 

Buid  that  the  pung  would  not  hear  to  reason,  except  when 
Margaret  was  there. 

But  every  rule  has  its  exceptions,  and  the  pung  once  forgot 
to  be  reasonable,  although  the  fair  Margaret  was  on  board. 
It  happened  on  this  wise  : 

An  old  lady  from  Portland  was  making  a  visitation  in  our 
neighborhood,  taking  turns  at  every  eligible  house  where  a 
claim  of  acquaintance  or  hospitality  could  gain  admittance 
for  her.  The  slightest  invitation  which  civility,  in  such  a 
neighborhood,  requires  to  be  bestowed  on  even  a  disagreeable 
acquaintance,  was  construed  by  her  into  an  earnest  wish  for 
at  least  a  week's  sojourn ;  during  which  time  she  would  man 
age  to  pry  into  every  one's  affairs,  and  make  herself  as  med 
dlesome  and  disagreeable  as  possible.  She  had  great  claims 
to  "  gentility,"  upon  which  she  plumed  herself,  and  upon  the 
grounds  of  which  she,  as  a  matter  of  course,  seemed  to  ex 
pect,  as  she  certainly  managed  to  get,  a  great  share  of  defer 
ence  and  attention.  Reverence  to  age,  and  respect  for  even 
its  caprices  .and  weaknesses,  are  traits  of  New  England  char 
acter  ;  and  -old  Mrs.  Simperkins  had  no  delicate  scruples 
about  stretching  the  chain  of  toleration  to  its  utmost  tension. 
So  that,  although  ignorant,  conceited,  vulgar-minded,  and 
mischievous,  she  managed  to  command  the  best  attentions 
and  hospitalities  of  our  town  for  two  mortal  months,  of 
which  two  weeks  were  divided  between  Major  Murray's  and 
Deacon  Arbor's,  where  her  affectations  and  pretensions,  her 
shallowncss  and  conceit,  had  pretty  nearly  neutralized  the 
natural  respect  and  welcome  accorded  to  aged  womanhood. 
Not  that  this  feeling  found  utterance  even  in  private,  though 
every  one  felt  that  it  would  be  a  relief  to  be  free  from  her 
society.  It  may  be  mentioned  that- she  claimed  to  be  "  a 


24  WOLFSDEN. 

hinglish  lady,"  and  to  have  been  "  heducated  Inn  the  'ighest 
border  bof  society,"  and  to  be  quite  conversant  with  "  duch 
esses,  countesses,  and  hall  the  'igh  life  hof  Lunnun."  The 
probability  is,  that  she  had  been  employed  in  some  cockney 
milliner's  establishment,  this  being  her  occupation  in  Port 
land,  where  she  had  temporarily  shut  up  shop  to  come  upon 
her  mission  among  us. 

Alek,  although  so  tolerant  of  everybody,  and  especially 
deferential  to  the  claims  of  age  and  womanhood,  was  quite 
disgusted  with  the  old  lady's  character ;  especially  with  the 
shallow  hypocrisy  which  she  wore,  like  her  ribbons  and 
ruffles,  as  the  advertisement  of  her  trade.  But  the  chief 
annoyance  was  her  constant  claim  to  be  present  in  all  the 
social  gatherings  of  the  young  people,  where  her  society  was 
always  felt  to  be  superfluous. 

It  happened  that  Margaret  Murray  came  on  the  Saturday 
of  Mrs.  Simperkins'  week  at  the  deacon's,  and  that  three  or 
four  other  young  friends  "  happened  in,"  which  made  as  near 
an  approach  to  a  "  party  "  as  might  be  allowable  at  a  deacon's 
on  a  Saturday  evening.  A  fire  was  built  in  the  "fore-room," 
and  there  was  a  cheerful  time.  We  had  tea,  and  toast,  and 
doughnuts,  and  pies,  and  all  the  plenty  of  a  substantial  farm 
house  supper,  where  people  eat  as  they  do  everything  else, — 
in  earnest.  We  had  conversation  and  sober  amusements,  as 
usual,  till  the  "  old  folks  "  had  retired  to  their  room,  which 
they  always  did  in  season  to  allow  an  hour  or  two  of  livelier 
play  to  the  young  ;  and  then  we  were  as  merry  as  we  could 
very  well  be,  though  all  were  secretly  annoyed  at  Mrs.  Sim 
perkins'  presence,  who  not  only  remained,  but  assumed,  as 
usual,  to  be  the  important  personage  of  the  company.  We 
boys,  including  Alek,  were  not  only  vexed  by  her  presence, 


WOLFSDEN.  25 

but  that  the  girls  should  show  so  much  deference  to  her  pre 
tensions,  and  so  perversely  decline  ours ;  which  vexation,  how 
ever,  we  swallowed  with  our  supper  ;  and,  with  the  apples  and 
nuts,  and  a  stolen  kiss  or  two,  we  made  ourselves  about  as 
happy  as  usual. 

Next  morning,  after  breakfast,  Alek  had  the  colts  harnessed 
to  the  pung  a  little  earlier  than  usual,  as  he  was  careful  to 
do  whenever  Margaret  was  to  be  one  of  the  party ;  for  it  had 
happened  sometimes  that  the  major  and  his  wife,  who  had  to 
pass  by  the  deacon's  on  the  way  to  meeting,  had  come  along 
and  had  called  to  take  Margaret  along  with  them,  much  to 
our  dissatisfaction.  I  suppose  we  had  all  a  secret  presen 
timent  of  Mrs.  Simperkins'  society  ;  though  nothing  was  said 
till  the  pung  was  brought  to  the  door,  when,  there  she  stood, 
with  her  bland  and  malicious  smile,  the  first  one  ready, 
and  evidently  prepared  to  take  the  first  place  in  our  convey 
ance.  This  was  bearing  pretty  hard  on  Alek's  patience,  and 
he  ventured  gently  to  suggest  that  she  had  better  ride  with 
the  old  folks ;  that  the  pung  was  not  so  comfortable  as  the 
sleigh ;  that  the  colts  were  very  wild,  and  the  roads  much 
drifted,  and  we  were  almost  sure  to  be  upset.  But  Mrs. 
Simperkins,  who  had,  doubtless,  learned  that  the  pung  never 
upset  with  Margaret  in  it,  was  deaf  to  all  remonstrances ; 
and,  being  supported  by  the  girls,  who  apparently  enjoyed 
our  vexation,  although  sharing  in  it  themselves,  she  crowded 
herself  into  the  party.  It  was  very  remarkable  that  the 
colts,  which,  being  well  trained,  were  generally  very  quiet 
during  the  process  of  loading,  now,  in  spite  of  Alek's  reining 
and  scolding  them,  and  snapping  the  whip,  or  perhaps  having 
some  secret  divination  of  their  master's  present  mood,  were 
uncommonly  restive  and  unaccommodating,  starting  backwards 
3 


26  WOLFSDEN. 

and  forwards  as  the  girls  were  crowding  into  their  places, 
and  pitching  them  in  every  direction ;  and  especially  when 
Mrs.  Simperkins  was  clambering  into  her  seat  they  gave  a 
sudden  start,  which,  but  for  the  girls  around  her,  would  have 
tumbled  her  over  ;  but,  as  if  to  make  amends,  they  were  very 
(juiet  when  Margaret,  who  got  in  last,  was  taking  her  seat. 
Sagacious  colts  they  were  ! 

But  after  all  this  difficulty  we  started  off  in  fine  style,  and 
I  could  see,  by  a  pleased  twinkle  in  Alek's  eye,  that  there  was 
fun  of  some  kind  ahead.  The  colts  scampered,  the  snow  flew, 
the  girls  screamed  alternately  with  excitement  or  terror,  as 
we  dashed  along  through  the  blinding  drifts,  until,  about 
half-way  to  the  meeting-house,  a  tremendous  bank  of  snow 
loomed  up  directly  in  the  road,  presenting  an  apparently  im 
passable  barrier.  We  knew  very  well  that  Alek  could  guide 
us  by  it,  or  through  it,  or  shipwreck  us  in  it,  at  his  option ; 
and,  but  for  Margaret's  presence,  should  have  expected  the 
latter,  which  indeed  I  began  to  suspect  would  be  our  lot,  at  any 
rate.  This  suspicion  was  soon  confirmed,  when,  as  we  neared 
the  drift,  Alek  quickly  placed  one  foot  outside  the  box,  and 
one  hand  under  an  arm  of  Margaret,  who  sat  very  near,  and, 
giving  the  reins  a  shake  and  a  jerk,  in  an  instant  we  saw  him 
spring,  with  Margaret  on  his  arm,  from  the  right  side  of  the 
pung,  and  at  the  same  moment  we  were  all  floundering  over 
head  and  ears  in  the  snow-bank  on  the  opposite  side,  while  the 
horses  were  plunging,  almost  completely  buried  in  the  snow. 
As  we  struggled  out  of  our  awkward  positions,  we  saw  Alek 
disentangling  and  backing  the  horses  out  of  their  difficulty, 
and  Margaret  standing  in  a  smooth,  hard  place,  entirely 
untouched  by  the  disaster,  but  looking  with  great  sympathy 
upon  our  distress ;  though,  being  bundled  and  bound  up  in 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  X  .  27 

wrappers,  cloaks,  shawls,  and  furs,  she  could  scarcely  move  tc 
give  the  least  assistance.  However,  we  struggled  bravely, 
helping  each  other  to  a  perpendicular  position  as  fast  as  possi 
ble  ;  and  Alek,  having  relieved  and  righted  the  team,  and  put 
Margaret  in  the  pung,  soon  came  to  our  assistance.  Pie  was 
full  of  apologies  and  explanations  ;  but  he  evidently  felt  like 
a  man  who  had  begun  the  day  very  well.  He  was  over-pro 
fuse  in  his  aid  and  sympathy  for  poor  Mrs.  Simperkins,  whose 
crushed  bonnet,  and  draggled  ribbons,  and  general  derange 
ment  of  millinery,  gave  good  color  of  justice  to  the  anger  of 
her  countenance.  I  think  that  a  sense  of  having  over-pun 
ished  the  old  lady  reacted  upon  his  generous  nature,  so  as 
really  to  kindle  a  name  of  kindness  toward  her ;  for  he  was 
very  careful  to  soothe  her  fears,  and  convey  her  safely  the 
rest  of  the  way,  and  upon  our  return  urged  her  to  ride  back 
with  us,  assuring  her  there  would  be  no  danger  of  another 
overturn.  She  would  not,  however,  venture  herself  with  us 
again,  but  rode  with  the  old  folks ;  arid,  what  was  sadder  still, 
we  had  to  part  with  Margaret,  who,  as  usual,  returned  home 
with  her  father  and  mother.  However,  we  all  went  home  in 
good  spirits,  especially  Alek,  who  looked  as  though  .he  had 
gained  much  good  from  Parson  foreman's  sermon,  and  had 
acquired  a  stock  of  charity  and  good-humor  sufficient  to  out 
last  the  visitations  of  a  dozen  Mrs.  Simperkinses. 


CHAPTER    II. 


DEAR  images  of  early  days,  when  life  was  full  of  freshness, 
when  the  glad  young  blood  bounded  through  elastic  veins, 
and  an  overflowing  vitality  supplied  the  nerves  with  energy, 
and  the  heart  with  abundant  feeling  !  Sweet  were  our  daily 
duties,  dear  were  our  ever-recurring  social  enjoyments,  and 
bright  our  anticipations.  Or,  if  a  pang  of  disappointment, 
of  jealousy,  or  some  fancied  injury,  pierced  our  sensitive 
bosoms,  how  soon  was  the  wound  healed,  and  the  pain  for 
gotten  ! 

Of  all  the  models  of  propriety,  of  quiet,  unassuming  dig 
nity,  softened  with  gentleness, —  of  all  the  daughter-like  and 
wife-like  and  mother-like  qualities  which  go  to  make  up  a  per 
fect  woman,  —  I  have  seen  none  surpassing  my  remembrance 
of  Helen  Arbor.  She  was  the  elder  sister  of  Alek,  and,  like 
most  elder  sisters,  the  best-instructed,  best-dispositioned,  and 
best-qualified  member  of  the  family.  The  father  might  be 
tardy,  but  Helen  was  always  prompt.  The  mother  might 
forget,  but  Helen  always  remembered.  Alek  might  blunder, 
but  Helen  did  everything  rightly.  Even  sweet  Frances  might 
sometimes  be  wayward  or  mischievous,  or  in  some  way  betray 
her  descent  from  Eve ;  but  Helen  might  have  been  born  free 
from  all  original  sin  (if  such  a  thing  had  been  possible  in  her 


WOLFSDEN.  29 

father's  creed),  as  she  certainly  grew  up  and  lived  without 
any  visible  faults  of  her  own.  Helen  was  not  strikingly  beau 
tiful,  though  everybody  allowed  that  she  was  good-looking ; 
and  the  girls,  especially  those  who  had  pretensions  of  their 
own  to  beauty,  all  declared  that  she  was  full  as  handsome  as 
Frances. 

But,  though  thus  endowed  and  graced  with  all  the  excel 
lences  which  would  have  made  her  a  treasure  of  a  wife,  to  a 
man  worthy  of  her,  Helen  was  now  twenty-five,  and  still  sin 
gle,  and  even  without  the  reputation  of  ever  having  had  a 
suitor.  I  know  not  how  it  was,  but  there  was  something  so 
mind-like  in  her  countenance,  so  much  apparent  depth  of 
judgment,  and  power  of  discernment,  that  the  most  presump 
tuous  spark  had  never  ventured  an  approach  to  flirtation  ; 
and  more  serious  suitors,  if  they  had  ever  appeared,  had  been 
quietly  dismissed,  and  the  world  was  none  the  wiser. 

It  may  here  be  recorded  that  Helen's  maternal  ancestry 
were  of  Quaker  descent.  Mrs.  Arbor,  generally  called  "Aunt 
Deborah,"  as  everybody  likes  to  call  s6  good  a  woman,  was 
the  grand-daughter  of  Mathew  Purington,  a  prominent  Friend 
before  and  during  the  Revolution,  and  who,  living  near  Boston 
in  those  troubled  times,  had  "  borne  testimony  "  against  the 
violence  of  both  sides,  to  both  General  Washington  and  Gen 
eral  Howe,  in  a  manner  characteristic  of  his  faith.  Aunt 
Deborah  spent  her  childhood  and  formed  her  early  associa 
tions  among  the  descendants  of  the  old  Quaker,  who  are  now 
numerous,  and  form  a  considerable  portion  of  the  "  meeting  " 
still  flourishing  near  its  original  locality,  which  is  now  the 
heart  of  a  city  famous  all  over  the  United  States  for  its 
manufacture  of  shoes. 

Aunt  Deborah  was  not  born  a  member  of  the  sect,  he: 
3* 


30  \TOLFSDJEN. 

mother  having  been  "  read  out  of  meeting  "  for  choosing  a 
husband  who  was  not  a  member  thereof;  but  she  honored  and 
perhaps  prided  herself  in  her  Quaker  ancestry,  and,  besides 
practising  their  common  virtues,  she  retained  many  of  their 
peculiar  sentiments,  especially  a  faith  in  the  "  inward  light," 
which,  being  cherished  and  followed,  she  believed  to  be  a  sure 
guide,  not  only  in  spiritual,  but  also  in  worldly  afl'uirs ;  and 
that  warnings  and  revelations  of  things  important  to  be 
avoided  or  to  be  done  were  thus  communicated  to  the  spirit 
ually  minded.  This  undoubted  faith  of  Aunt  Deborah  was 
confirmed,  not  only  by  early  teachings  and  the  really  remark 
able  experiences  of  early  Friends,  but  also  by  her  own  expe 
rience  in  frequent  cases,  one  of  which  came  under  my  own 
observation,  and  is  so  impressed  on  my  memory  that  I  can 
hardly  proceed  without  telling  it. 

It  happened  that  Alek  and  I  went  one  day  to  a  distant 
part  of  the  town,  to  give  to  a  poor  man,  who  had  been  dis 
abled  by  accident,  a  day's  work  in  harvesting.  Among  a  few 
others  who  were  gathered  for  the  same  purpose  was  Josiah 
Brown,  a  strong,  active,  and  generally  good-natured  fellow 
enough,  but  of  a  violent  temper  when  provoked.  A  difficulty 
arose  between  him  and  Alek,  about  a  matter  which  was  after 
wards  explained,  but  which  produced  much  ill-feeling  and 
harsh  language  between  them  at  the  time,  and  which,  but  for 
the  presence  of  others,  might  have  ended  in  blows  ;  for  Josiah 
was  very  violent,  and  Alek,  though  averse  to  a  quarrel,  had 
hardly  enough  of  his  brave  Quaker  ancestor's  blood  or  spirit 
to  bear  violence  without  retaliation.  However,  they  parted 
without  anything  more  serious  than  hard  words  and  hard 
thoughts,  which,  to  Alek's  peaceful  mind,  were  an  unpleasant 
burthen,  though  it  seemed  to  be  pretty  much  worn  off  and 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  .  31 

forgotten  before  we  reached  home.  Alek  attended  to  his  out 
door  affairs,  and  went  in  to  supper  with  his  usual  good-natured 
look ;  but  his  quick  eye  noticed  that  his  mother  looked  graver 
than  usual.  He  knew  that  she  could  not  have  heard  of  the 
quarrel,  for  it  had  taken  place  just  before  he  started  for  home, 
and  no  one  came  before  him,  or  could  have  passed  him  on  the 
road,  or  could  have  any  motive  to  tell  his  mother  of  so  trifling 
but  unpleasant  a  matter.  But,  when  the  family  were  out  of 
the  room,  to  his  great  surprise  she  said  to  him,  "  My  son,  have 
you  had  a  quarrel  with  anybody  this  afternoon?  " 

"A  quarrel !  "  said  Alek,  forcing  a  laugh  ;  "  with  whom, 
and  for  what  ?  You  know  I  am  no  quarreller.  You  might, 
as  well  think  of  your  grandfather  Purington's  quarrelling." 

"  Yes  ;  but,  Alek,"  continued  his  mother,  "  I  feel  impressed 
to  ask  you  if  you  have  quarrelled  with  anybody, —  with  Josiah 
Brown,  for  instance,  or  anybody  else  ?  " 

Alek  saw  that  evasion  was  out  of  the  question,  and  replied, 
"  Well,  mother,  I  did  talk  to  Josiah  Brown  rather  plain, 
perhaps,  but  I  said  nothing  but  what  was  true  and  right." 

"  My  son,"  said  his  mother,  "  you  doubtless  said  what  was 
true,  but  what  was  not  right  to  say,  at  least  in  the  spirit  of 
anger.  Now,  my  son,  you  think  that  Josiah  Brown  has  done 
you  some  wrong,  and  I  will  tell  you  how  to  get  the  advantage 
of  him.  Will  you  take  my  counsel  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  always  take  your  counsel." 

"Well,  Alek,  in  the  first  place  forgive  in  }rour  heart  what 
ever  injury  Josiah  may  have  clone  you ;  then  examine  can 
didly  whether  you  have  not  done  him  some  wrong,  in  his  feel 
ings  or  otherwise,  which  ought  to  be  confessed  ;  and,  whether 
you  have  or  not,  go  to  him  at  the  first  opportunity,  and  bo 
reconciled." 


32  WOLFSDEN. 

"  I  will,  mother.     But  who  told  you  anything  about  it  ?  " 

"  No  one,  my  son :  it  was  impressed  on  me  about  an  hour 
before  you  came  home." 

"  Well,  mother,  that  was  just  the  time  I  had  the  words 
with  Josiah." 

Alek  told  me,  the  next  day,  of  this  conversation  with  his 
mother,  adding  that  he  believed  she  knew  his  very  thoughts, 
and  that  it  was  of  no  use  to  keep  any  secret  from  her. 

"  In  that  case,"  said  I,  "  you  are  well  guarded,  for  you 
have  both  God  and  your  mother  watching  you.  I  think  you  '11 
go  pretty  straight." 

"  Well,  I  mean  to  do  just  that  very  thing,"  said  Alek. 

Ah,  Alek !  trust  not  thus  in  your  own  strength ;  for  it  is 
spiritual  as  well  as  carnal  pride  which  goeth  before  destruc 
tion,  and  a  self-righteous  as  well  as  a  haughty  spirit  before  a 
fall !  And  yet  Alek's  moral  strength  and  firmness  might  seem 
reliable.  It  had  already  been  often  proved,  and  the  very  next 
evening,  after  his  day's  work,  he  rode  over  to  Job  Brown's, 
found  Josiah,  and,  offering  his  hand,  said,  "  I  was  wrong  yes 
terday  —  let  us  overlook  the  affair." 

"  0,  nc,  I  was  wrong,"  said  Josiah,  melting  at  once  ;  "  I 
am  sorry  you  came  to  me  in  this  way  —  I  mean  I  wish 
I  had  gone  to  you ;  but  I  had  n't  spunk  enough  to  do  it, 
although  I  found  out,  soon  after  you  went  away,  that  I  was 
entirely  in  the  wrong  —  it  was  all  my  mistake.  But  how  can 
you  say  you  were  wrong,  when  you  know  you  were  entirely  in 
the  right  ?  " 

"  I  mean,"  said  Alek,  "  that  I  was  wrong  in  losing  my  tem 
per,  and  using  hard  language ;  but  it  is  none  of  my  merit 
finding  that  out,  and  coining  to  own  it.  It 's  all  mother's 


WOLF8DEN.  33 

doings ;  and  you  may  be  sure  when  I  do  anything  right,  or 
mend  anything  wrong,  that  mother  has  a  hand  in  it." 

"  Well,"  said  Josiah,  "  you  have  mended  your  wrong,  if 
you  did  any,  and  left  me  no  chance  to  mend  mine,  and  that  I 
call  getting  the  advantage  of  me.  Now,  I  only  ask  you,  when 
you  see  me  play  the  blackguard  again,  just  give  me  a  good 
kicking,  and  I  '11  take  it  kindly,  and  thank  you  into  the  bar 
gain." 

Alek  laughed,  and,  after  going  into  the  house  and  chatting 
with  the  family  a  while,  went  homewards  feeling  quite  com 
fortable,  reflecting  what  a  mother  he  had  to  give  good  advice, 
and  especially  thinking  of  the  remarkable  coincidence  of  lan 
guage  in  his  mother's  counsel,  and  Josiah's  confession  that  he 
had  (jot  the  advantage  of  him. 

"  There  is  something,"  said  Alek,  "  in  this  '  inward  light,' 
that  is  wonderful.  Mother  says  we  may  all  have  it  by  attend 
ing  to  it ;  but  I  think  it  won't  come  easy  to  any  of  us,  except 
Helen.  She 's  got  it,  safe  enough,  though  she  says  nothing 
about  it." 

Thus  meditated  Alek,  while  his  colt,  with  loose  rein  and  at 
his  own  pace,  bore  him  quickly  home. 

"All  right,  mother ! "  said  Alek,  exultingly,  as  he  came  into 
the  kitchen. 

"  Yes,  all  right,  my  son,"  said  his  mother,  just  as  if  she 
knew  where  he  had  been,  and  all  about  it. 

Josiah  Brown  told  me,  a  good  while  after,  about  Alek's 
coming  to  feconcile  the  matter.  "And,"  said  he,  "  that  just  cut 
me  the  worst  kind.  But  there  is  one  comfort,  —  he  gave  his 
mother  credit  for  it,  and  it 's  my  mind  them  Arbors  would  n't 
be  so  much  better  than  everybody  else,  if  it  was  n't  for  their 


34  \V  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

mother.  It  does  a  fellow  more  good  to  have  her  just  speak  to 
him,  than  to  hear  Parson  Boreman  preach  seven  years." 

Alek's  mother  had  once  reproved  Josiah,  when  a  boy,  for 
swearing  at  his  horse,  and  with  such  good  effect  that  folks 
said  he  went  home  and  asked  pardon  of  his  horse,  on  his 
knees.  That  might  not  be  true,  but  it  is  a  fact  that  he  broke 
himself  of  the  habit  of  swearing. 

People  everywhere  admitted  Aunt  Deborah's  excellence, 
and  that  Helen  was  just  like  her ;  and  thought  it  a  pity  that 
she  should  not  marry,  and  bring  up  just  sucli  another  family, 
instead  of  living  and  dying  an  old  maid,  as  she  was  likely  to 
do.  From  this  latter  destiny  there  could  be  no  doubt  many 
a  nice  young  man  would  be  glad  to  save  her,  if  he  had  only 
the  courage  to  "  propose ;  "  but,  for  want  of  it,  or  some  other 
cause,  the  prospects  in  that  direction  looked  rather  blank. 

But  it  takes  everybody  to  know  everything.  The  world  is 
a  prying,  inquisitive  medley  of  all  sorts  of  folks,  having  all 
sorts  of  notions,  and  finding  out  and  guessing  all  sorts  of 
things ;  and  yet  it  often  happens  that  some  quiet,  simple-seem 
ing,  grave-looking  old  gentleman  or  lady  knows  a  thing  or 
two,  of  which  the  slightest  whisper  would  set  the  same  shrewd, 
prying,  self-ccmceitcd  world  a  wondering  for  a  week,  and  buz- 
xing  for  a  month.  For  instance,  if  Aunt  Deborah  should  tell 
all  that  was  thought,  said,  and  done,  when  she,  and  Helen, 
and  the  deacon,  visited  Uncle  Lemuel's  family,  at  Saco,  three 
years  ago  this  winter;  —  how  Cousin  Hezekiah,  the  school 
master,  at  first  eyed  her  as  keenly  as  if  he  thought  she  might 
in  some  way  belong  to  him,  and  then  so  timidly  spoke  and 
shook  hands  with  her  as  if  he  feared  she  might  belong  to 
somebody  else,  —  and  then  was  so  anxious,  and  inquisitive, 
and  communicative,  as  if  that  question  must  be  settled  soon 


WOLFSDEN.  35 

in  one  way  or  another ;  and  how  he  invited  Helen  to  his 
school,  and  introduced  her  to  all  his  favorite  scholars  among 
the  girls  and  young  women,  but  not  to  one  of  the  boys  or 
young  men ;  and  how  he  carried  her  home  from  school 
alone,  forgetting  to  invite  the  girls  to  jump  in  and  fill  up  the 
sleigh,  as  usual ;  and  how  flustered  and  fidgety,  and  yet 
how  very  happy,  he  seemed,  all  the  time  of  her  visit ;  and 
how  very  grave  and  pathetic  he  looked  when  they  came  away ; 
and  how  he  put  a  large  hot  stone  in  the  bottom  of  the 
sleigh,  and  tucked  the  buffalo-robe  about  her,  as  though  he 
supposed  she  might  be  some  tender  vegetable,  very  suitable  to 
be  cooked  over  a  hot  stone,  but  not  hardy  enough  to  be  ex 
posed  to  the  frost ;  and  how  he  shook  hands  with  her  at 
parting  four  times  as  long  as  was  necessary  and  proper ;  and 
how,  since  that  time,  Aunt  Nabby,  his  mother,  had  written 
to  Aunt  Deborah,  her  mother,  every  three  months,  enclosing 
a  letter  directed,  in  a  nice,  schoolmaster  hand,  to  Miss  Helen 
Arbor  ;  —  all  these  things,  which  Aunt  Deborah  often  talked 
over  with  the  deacon,  and  sometimes  with  Helen,  what  if 
she  had  hinted  to  some  sagacious  secret-finder  for  the  wonder- 
loving  world  ?  How  would  the  wonder-loving  world  have 
stared,  and  buzzed,  and  looked  wise  for  a  month  !  Ah,  busy 
world,  be  not  too  impatient!  Everything  shall 'be  known  in 
due  time.  In  the  warm  and  mellow  mould  of  all  bounteous 
earth  seeds  of  mysterious  organization  lie  hid  and  unsus 
pected.  Yet  not  too  long  shall  they  remain  in  their  secret 
hiding-places,  for  the  genial  season  comes  on  apace,  when  they 
shall  burst  their  dark  coverings,  and  bear  the  glossy  leaves, 
the  bright  flowers,  and  the  fragrance  of  their  destiny.  So 
from  the  dark  unknown  do  we  arise  to  light  and  lifo.  We  are 
nourished  in  weakness,  imbecility  is  taught  to  reason,  and  the 


36  WOLFSDEN. 

low  instincts  give  place  to  high  aims,  until  the  soul  aspires  to 
a  destiny  which  only  the  hereafter  can  reveal. 

Deacon  Arbor  held,  with  unswerving  steadfastness,  the  creed 
of  New  England  doctrine,  as  stamped  and  moulded  into  the 
consciences  of  their  own  and  succeeding  generations  by  the 
Pilgrim  Fathers.  He  knew,  indeed,  that  it  had  been  disputed 
and  strongly  controverted ;  and  perhaps  his  own  meditative 
mind  had  been  disquieted  with  doubts  about  doctrines  which 
religious  consistency  required  him  to  hold  fast.  But  his  doubts 
had  never  disturbed  his  faith  in  the  goodness  of  God,  in  the 
truth  of  his  Redeemer,  and  the  blessed  salvation  which  he 
felt  assured  he  should  attain,  by  direct  communion  with  him, 
even  though  the  Westminster  Catechism  should  err. 

In  Helen's  mind  were  blended,  in  finer  and  softer  texture, 
yet  with  equal  strength,  the  elements  of  her  father's  faith  and 
the  mysterious  "  inward  light "  inherited  from  her  mother. 
If  she  meditated  less  upon  the  "  plan  "  unfolded  in  the  cate 
chism  and  creed  of  her  paternal  church,  she  received  them 
with  perhaps  a  more  undoubting  faith  from  their  very  incom 
prehensibility,  and  drew  richer  consolations  and  higher  motives 
to  holiness  from  the  depth  of  doctrines  too  divine  to  be  sub 
jected  to  the  scrutiny  of  human  investigation,  or  to  be  ques 
tioned  by  human  reason.  In  her  were  manifest  the  results  of 
that  vital  piety  which,  independent  of  the  garb  of  doctrines 
surrounding  it,  penetrates  and  finds  its  congenial  home,  and 
makes  its  sanctuary,  in  the  sincere  and  earnest  heart.  And 
though  she  declined  to  dispute  about  matters  too  high  for  her, 
and  took  no  part  in  the  doctrinal  discussions  which  kindled 
the  zeal  of  neighborly  disputants,  she  well  knew  how  to  take 
the  shortest  way  to  the  surest  knowledge ,  for  she  trusted  the 
"  true  light  which  lighteth  every  man  that  comcth  into  the 


WOLFSDEN.  37 

world,"  and  that  "  whoso  doeth  his  will  shall  know  of  the 
doctrine."  And  therefore  her  life  became,  not  only  the  most 
successful  pupilage,  but  also  the  best  exemplification  of  Chris 
tian  truth. 

But  still  more  in  the  gentle  and  lovely  Frances,  whom  we 
generally  called  Fanny,  did  piety  present  its  most  attractive 
grace.  She  seemed  born  to  put  to  its  hardest  trial  the  stern 
dogma  which  declares  the  total  depravity  of  all  mankind,  and 
that  every  descendant  of  Adam  is  a  child  of  wrath.  A  stum 
bling-block  in  the  Calvinistic  believer's  path,  even  from  her 
mother's  womb,  she  grew  up  a  child  of  grace,  recalling  to 
every  beholder's  mind,  as  each  germ  of  her  nature  unfolded, 
the  sweet  words  of  him  who  said,  "  Of  such  is  the  kingdom 
of  heaven."  The  open,  unaffected,  childlike,  and  perfectly 
natural  form  of  her  piety,  was  a  puzzle  to  those  to  whom  the 
garb  of  peculiar  solemnity  and  peculiar  phrase  seemed  essen 
tial  to  religion.  She  thought  and  spoke  of  the  Saviour,  not 
as  of  an  awful  and  mystical  being,  unapproachable  except 
through  prescribed  forms,  which  the  initiated  must  regulate, 
nor  yet  as  the  still  more  unnatural  object  of  ecstatic  adula 
tion  and  rapturous  adoration,  but  rather  as  the  sure  and  faith 
ful  friend  in  heaven,  to  whom  she  might  always  turn  in  confi 
dence  as  to  her  earthly  father,  and  to  whose  arms  she  would 
run,  if  now  on  earth,  with  full  assurance  of  the  same  welcome 
reception  that  he  gave  to  the  little  children  of  Judea. 

Yet  if  Fanny  was  a  puzzle  to  believers  in  the  creed  of 
total  depravity,  Alek,  on  the  contrary,  was  an  exemplification 
of  its  truth.  He  was  often  alluded  to  as  showing  how  the 
natural  man  might  possess  all  the  amiable  qualities  of  natural 
goodness,  and  yet  be  destitute  of  saving  grace. 

"  There  is  Alek  Arbor,"  they  would  say ;  "  everybody  knows 
4 


38  W  O  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

that  he  is  perfectly  honest  and  faithful,  and  would  go  further 
out  of  his  way  to  do  a  good  turn  to  a  poor  person,  or  to  atone 
for  a  wrong  action,  than  some  Christians  that  could  be  named ; 
and  yet,  after  all,  everybody  knows  that  he  is  not  a  Christian  ; 
for,  though  he  understands  the  Bible  very  well,  —  at  least, 
the  letter  thereof,  —  and  keeps  the  Sabbath  outwardly,  yet  he 
has  never  '  experienced  religion,'  nor  even  '  been  under  convic 
tion.'  We  must  regard  him  as  a  child  of  the  devil  under  the 
law,  and  therefore  under  the  curse ;  for  what  saith  the  Scrip 
tures  ?  —  '  lie  that  is  not  with  me  is  against  me,  and  he  that 
gathereth  not  with  me,  scattereth ; '  by  which  we  are  to  un 
derstand  that  we  should  gather  ourselves  into  the  church,  or 
we  shall  be  scattered  as  the  chaff."  This  clear  and  conclusive 
exposition  of  Scripture  of  course  completely  defined  Alek's 
case. 

And  yet,  of  these  devout  neighbors,  who  so  confidently  and 
conscientiously  settled  Alek's  spiritual  condition,  not  one 
would  hesitate  to  grasp  his  hand  in  warm  friendship,  or  give 
him  the  most  hearty  welcome  to  the  festivities  of  his  fire 
side.  Even  Major  Murray,  the  most  reliable,  or  at  least  the 
most  unyielding,  of  the  champions  of  the  faith,  seemed  by  no 
means  alarmed  at  the  possible  contingency  of  having  this 
child  of  the  devil  for  a  son-in-law — a  contingency  which 
neighborly  gossip  could  not  fail  to  convey  to  his  ears,  even 
if  his  eyes  had  failed  to  discern  the  signs  of  the  times.  But 
this  was  only  a  thing  in  the  common  course  of  the  faith, 
which  permits  the  deacon's  progeny  and  the  devil's  progeny, 
like  the  wheat  and  tares  of  Scripture,  to  grow  together  till  the 
harvest.  Besides,  who  could  know  that  Alek  might  not  yet 
be  plucked  as  a  brand  from  the  burning  ? 


CHAPTER    III. 


Now — look  out — for  a  —  Snowstorm. — FARMER'S  ALMANAC. 

STERN  Winter  holds  his  ancient  reign.  The  cold  constella 
tions,  who  watch  his  empire  from  their  high  places,  sparkle 
with  keener  lustre.  The  winds  awaken  and  gather  their 
forces  from  the  valleys  and  mountain-tops.  Their  voices  roar 
in  wild  disorder  through  the  leafless  forests,  and  blend  in  sol 
emn  harmony  over  wide,  dismantled  plains,  while  they  fling 
their  fleecy  tribute  in  his  path.  The  night  of  the  busy  year  ! 
He  brings  sleep  to  a  million  eyes.  The  insect  tribes  hide  in 
the  rough  bark  of  trees,  or  in  the  gray  moss  at  their  roots,  or 
bind  their  silken  drapery  to  the  fluttering  leaf,  and  wait  in 
dreamless  slumber  the  vernal  breath  which  shall  renew  their 
life.  The  humble  hibernating  and  amphibious  animals  make 
their  beds  in  fissures  of  the  rocks,  or  dens  of  the  earth,  or 
beneath  still  waters.  Half  of  nature's  life  waits  in  torpid 
repose  the  coming  spring.  But  man  and  the  nobler  beasts 
rejoice  in  the  stern,  sinew-bracing  blasts  of  winter.  To  the 
New  England  farmer  the  season  comes  with  welcome.  The 
cares  of  summer  and  the  bounties  of  autumn  are  supplied 
with  a  purpose  and  a  use  by  the  requirements  of  winter.  The 
fleeces  of  his  flock,  transformed  to  comely  garments,  protect 
and  adorn  his  family.  His  well-filled  granary  and  cellar  sup 
ply  the  solid  nutriment  and  savory  cheer  which  generous  life 


40  WOLFSDEN. 

and  liberal  hospitality  love.  From  his  mows  of  fragrant  hay 
he  spreads  their  welcome  food  before  the  lowing  cattle,  and 
answers  the  whinnying  welcome  of  his  horse  with  a  heaped 
measure  of  oats  from  the  bin.  From  the  towering  wood-pile 
huge  logs  are  supplied  to  the  ample  chimney,  which  sends 
ruddy  heat  through  the  capacious  kitchen,  where  the  experi 
enced  mother,  and  her  neat  daughters,  pursue  their  domestic 
affairs,  while  the  younger  fry  clamor  in  their  various  sports. 

Such  was  now  the  cheerful,  busy  scene  in  Deacon  Arbor's 
kitchen.  There  has  been  even  a  more  than  common  diligence 
there  for  a  few  days  past,  attended  with  an  air  of  mystery 
portending  the  coming  of  more  than  common  events.  Baskets 
of  apples  have  been  brought  from  the  cellar,  peeled,  and  con 
signed  to  the  chopping-tray,  compounding  a  delicious  mass, 
which  yonder  long  row  of  pastry-covered  plates  shall  soon 
receive  and  bear  to  the  hot  oven.  The  voracious  mouth  of 
that  hot  oven  !  What  interminable  plates  of  various  pies, — 
what  pots  of  pork  and  beans,  —  what  pans  of  various  puddings, 
and  deep  platters  of  chicken  pasties,  —  what  swollen  loaves  of 
bread,  the  white  and  the  brown,  enter  the  capacious  cavern  at 
the  end  of  this  busy  week  !  Yes,  it  is  the  end  of  the  week, 
and  the  month,  and  the  year.  To-morrow  is  Sunday,  and 
New  Year's  Day.  It  is  well  to  welcome  the  birth  of  the  new 
year  with  ample  cheer.  May  it  be  a  happy  year,  such  even 
as  the  last !  It  promises  to  be  so,  and  is  welcomed  with  abun 
dant  bounty.  It  is  welcomed  with  complacent  grace  by  the 
benignant  parents,  with  beaming  smiles  by  the  expectant  daugh 
ters,  and  with  the  glad  and  noisy  mirth  of  the  uproarious  boys, 
13illy  and  Tommy,  who  often  press  the  compliant  Alek  into 
their  wild  sport.  He  tosses  them  into  the  drifting  snow. 
They  scream  with  mingled  indignation  and  delight,  and  pelt 


WOLFSDEN.  41 

• 

him  with  snow-balls.  Now  at  once  they  clasp  and  entangle 
his  legs,  and  tumble  him  into  the  drift,  and  strive  to  keep  him 
down  and  bury  him  before  he  can  regain  his  feet.  He  strug 
gles  and  recovers,  in  spite  of  their  combined  efforts.  They 
turn  and  scamper  away,  to  escape  the  coming  retribution. 
Billy  succeeds,  and  gains  the  sanctuary  of  the  kitchen,  where 
he  is  safe,  and  where,  0,  lucky  Billy  !  a  mighty  pan  of  dough 
nuts,  hot  and  smoking  from  the  fatty  caldron,  greets  his 
sparkling  eyes,  and  invites  his  watering  mouth.  He  seizes 
one,  and  is  about  to  make  a  general  onset.  Helen,  who  pre 
sides  with  the  ladle,  tells  him  to  be  off.  She  will  not  have  her 
doughnuts  eaten  while  she  is  cooking  them.  Billy  insists,  but 
compromises  for  one  more,  with  which  he  again  ventures  forth, 
in  time  to  learn  the  fate  of  Tommy.  Luckless  Tommy  !  Alek 
caught  him  just  as  he  had  gained  the  door-stone,  and  threw 
him  into  a  deep  bank  of  snow,  and  then  wallowed  off,  with 
long  strides,  to  visit  the  cattle  in  the  barn.  Tommy  had  just 
extricated  himself  from  the  smothering  bank,  and,  all  white 
with  snow,  and  panting  with  exertion,  reproaches  Billy  with 
having,  in  the  heat  of  the  conflict,  made  so  cowardly  a  flight, 
quite  forgetful  that  he  had  himself  joined  in  it,  and  only  lost 
the  race  by  chance,  when  overtaken.  Billy  mollifies  him  with 
his  extra  doughnut,  and  they  hasten  to  the  barn,  where  Alek 
promises  them  sport  in  breaking  out  the  roads,  as  a  recom 
pense  for  their  defeat. 

It  has  snowed  all  the  night,  and  now  the  morning  has  far 
advanced,  and  still  it  snows.  Abroad,  far  as  can  be  seen,  over 
the  broad  fields,  in  the  deep  valleys,  upon  the  hills'  steep  sides, 
is  spread  the  deep  and  still-accumulating  wintry  store.  The 
fences  disappear,  the  shrubs  and  bushes  vanish  from  the  land- 
4* 


42  WOLFSDEN. 

• 

scape.  The  river's  winding  track  is  hidden.  The  trees  of 
the  orchard,  and  the  long  rows  that  border  the  lane  on  eithei 
side,  seemingly  shortened  in  their  trunks,  struggle  to  raise 
their  over-burthened  branches  above  tjie  overwhelming  snow. 
From  up  in  the  sky  still  come  down  the  exhaustlcss  stores. 
Looking  upward,  how  dark  and  murky  seem  those  winged 
messengers  of  the  clouds  !  Looking  downward  and  abroad, 
how  sublimely  they  tell  their  silent  part  of  the  great  story 
of  earth  and  heaven  !  How  awful  the  aspect  to  him  who 
sees  in  the  storm  the  hand  of  Him  who  directs  it !  How 
dreadful  to  the  misguided  or  improvident  wanderer,  who  has 
no  shelter  from  its  unpitying  rigor  !  Yet  how  cheerful  the 
contrast  of  its  out-door  inclemency  renders  the  bright  and 
busy  kitchen,  where  the  blazing  fire  sends  forth  its  radiant 
heat,  blended  with  the  music  of  the  kettle  and  the  fragrance 
of  the  coming  feast ! 

So  dark  and  threatening  seems  the  storm  without,  so  pleas 
ant  and  promising  the  scene  within.  There  the  drifts  swell 
higher  and  higher  with  the  cold,  driving  snow.  Here  the  fire 
blazes  higher  and  higher,  and  higher  swell  the  piles  of  good 
cheer.  The  inhospitalities  of  the  storm  without  are  more 
than  compensated  by  the  hospitality  within.  Our  garrison 
is  supplied  with  provision  and  stored  with  ammunition  to 
withstand  the  siege  of  winter,  till  the  tardy  April  sun  shall 
come  to  the  rescue.  And  full  are  we,  every  mother's  son 
and  daughter  too,  of  the  spirit  and  bravery  which  dares  to 
sally  forth  and  defy  the  storm. 

Yes,  it  is  even  so ;  we  will  not  be  enclosed  and  pent  up 
here.  Why,  the  roads  are  piled  above  the  fences  with  impass 
able  drifts,  and  still  the  snow  is  coming  down  and  heaping 
up !  Shall  the  elements  be  so  active  without,  and  we  idle 


WOLFSDEN.  43 

within  ?  And  see,  —  a  flock  of  snow-birds  come  as  if  from 
the  clouds,  and  hop  from  spray  to  spray,  and  from  limb  to 
limb  of  the  bare  lilacs  and  plum-trees  in  the  garden.  Their 
quick  and  lively  chirp  foretells  the  coming  of  friends.  Other 
omens  have  indicated  as  much.  The  kettle  sings  the  sleigh- 

o  o 

bell  tune  ;  brands  fall  from  the  fire,  and  stand  on  end  in  the 
corner ;  two  strangers  were  seen  in  Helen's  cup  of  tea,  last 
evening ;  a  cricket  hopped  across  the  floor,  and  the  cat  has 
twice  leaped  up  in  a  chair  to  look  out  at  the  window.  The 
good  mother  has  carefully  noted  all  these  signs,  and  even 
Helen,  generally  incredulous,  seems  to  believe  them  ;  while 
Fanny,  with  a  roguish  dimple,  says  she  guesses  that  the  let 
ter  which  came  last  Saturday  evening,  and  which  she  was 
not  permitted  to  read,  was  the  thing  which  inclined  mother 
and  Helen  to  put  so  much  faith  in  signs. 

But  there  is  evidently  too  much  expectation  and  energy  to 
brook  confinement.  Alek  and  the  boys  have*  returned  from 
the  barn  all  agreed  upon  the  necessity  of  breaking  out  the 
roads,  and  the  deacon  says  he  guesses  it  may  be  as  well  to  do 
so.  The  deacon  is  district  surveyor  this  year,  and,  therefore, 
his  decree  is  the  law  of  the  road.  Alek  had  a  whisper  with 
his  mother  this  morning,  and  gave  a  nod  in  reply,  such  as 
are  often  the  seeds  of  mighty  resolves  and  deeds.  A  hasty 
and  ample  meal  soon  spreads  the  table,  and  is  as  quickly 
despatched. 

And  now  the  four  strong  oxen  are  brought  from  the  barn, 
and  ranged  in  their  yokes  in  due  order,  with  Alek  by  their 
side  to  lead  the  way.  Onward  they  move,  now  wallowing 
along,  and  forcing  their  unwieldy  weight  through  the  yield 
ing  snow ;  now  floundering  inextricably  in  a  drift  which 
buries  them  to  their  backs ;  now,  again,  partly  uncovered  by 


44  WOLFSDEN. 

the  quick  aid  of  a  dozen  snow-shovels,  —  for  several  men  and 
boys,  notified  by  Alek's  prudent  foresight,  have  arrived, — 
they  struggle  onwards  with  a  vigor  and  perseverance  which 
never  fails  to  force  the  most  formidable  intrenehments  of 
winter,  and  to  keep  open  the  lines  of  communication  between 
beleaguered  villages.  Through  drifts  and  banks,  with  cheers 
and  shouts,  they  force  their  way  onward  to  the  village, 
gathering  reinforcements  from  every  farm-house  which  they 
pass. 

Colonel  Bowler's  was  the  first  house  on  the  way.  The  old 
colonel  —  the  father  and  grandfather  of  a  throng  of  Bowler 
men,  and  Bowler  women,  and  Bowler  boys,  and  Bowler  girls, 
the  former  already  in  the  snow-subduing  party ,-and  the  latter 
peeping  from  every  window  —  was  as  lively  as  any  of  them. 
"With  his  old  military  spirit,  the  spirit  of  '70,  as  he  jocosely 
said,  though  with  no  claim  of  revolutionary  honors,  for  he 
was  but  a  boy  in  those  days,  but  because  his  own  age  now 
approached  that  ever-honored  date,  he  gave  out  his  orders, 
and  marshalled  his  reinforcement. 

"Isaac,  yoke  old  Brown  and  Turk,  and  put  them  ahead ; 
put  Star  and  Bright  behind,  and  the  steers  in  the  middle ; 
hitch  'em  to  the  logging-sled,  and  fasten  the  bob-sled  behind ; 
roll  on  two  of  the  mill-logs,-  and  let  the  butts  drag  behind. 
Old  Brown  and  Turk  will  show  you  where  the  road  ought  to 
be,  and  the  logs  will  make  some  little  marks,  so  you  '11  know 
it.  Tom,  Ilany,  Jim,  and  the  rest  of  you,  put  ahead  with 
your  shovels,  and  clear  the  drifts.  Adjutant,  my  boy,  must 
you  go?  Well,  tell  your  mother  to  tie  your  cap  over  your 
ears,  and  pull  a  pair  of  stockings  over  your  shoes." 

Sammy  was  the  youngest  of  the  boys,  only  seven  years, 
old,  and  the  colonel  called  him  his  adjutant.  The  colonel 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  .  45 

was  fond  of  his  grandson,  and  loved  to  u.se  his  old  military 
terms  and  phrases.  » 

"I  am  getting  to  be  old,"  he  would  say,  "but  I  don't  need 
the  old  man's  staff,  and  I  don't  think  I  shall,  so  long  as  I 
can  keep  up  my  military  staff.  The  adjutant  is  a  brave  sol 
dier  ;  he  puts  away  my  chapeau  "  (so  the  colonel  called  his 
raccoon-cap),  "and  brings  my  slippers,  and  reads  me  a  chapter 
in  the  Testament,  and  two  pages  of  Weems'  Life  of  Washing 
ton,  every  night.  And  a  brave  fellow,  too,  he  is  with  .his 
rations.  Don't  he  know  how  to  forage  for  apples  and  dough 
nuts  ?  He  beats  Johnny  Horner  with  his  Christmas  pie,  and 
stows  away  a  bowl  of  pudding  and  milk  in  no  time  ; — but 
he  is  a  sad  dog  to  sleep  in  the  morning,  —  next  winter  we 
shall  teach  him  the  tune  of  '  early  to  rise.'  We  shall  beat 
the  feveille  in  his  ears  at  day-break.  But,  adjutant,  bring  a 
mug  of  cider,  and  you,  girls,  go  and  draw  it  for  him ;  the 
oxen  are  ready,  and  we  '11  have  a  fair  start."  The  colonel 
never  forgot  anything,  especially  the  cider. 

Refreshed  with  rest  and  cider,  and  reinforced  with  men, 
and  boys,  and  oxen,  and  steers,  away,  shouting,  and  plunging, 
and  wallowing,  now  shovelling  a  passage  through  a  huge 
drift  in  advance  of  the  oxen,  now  gathering  together  on  the 
.sleds  to  crush  down  the  snow,  they  work  their  way  over  the 
ridge,  and  down  the  hill,  and  through  the  woods.  Old  Brown 
and  Turk  plod  perscveringly  on.  They  are  the  colonel's  boast; 
the  biggest  oxen  in  town  by  four  inches  in  their  girth  ;  the 
heartiest  at  a  pull,  and  the  surest  on  the  road.  The  colonel 
evidently  mixes  up  the  merit  of  the  oxen  with  his  own,  and, 
with  true  military  justice,  appropriates  to  himself  the  laurels 
won  by  the  prowess  of  his  host. 

And  so,  plodding,  and  pushing,  and   plunging,  they  work 


46  \V  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

their  way  ahead.  The  colonel  maintains  his  post  on  the  long 
logging-sled,  touching  up^he  hinder  cattle,  and  directing  the 
efforts  of  the  boys.  Ike  keeps  by  the  heads  of  Turk  and 
Brown,  and  Alek  with  his  team  lags  behind,  prepared  to 
take  their  place  again  in  front,  when  Turk  and  Brown  shall 
need  relief.  Alek  has  pride  in  his  team,  but  he  will  not  dis 
pute  the  palm  with  the  colonel.  If  it  were  only  Ike,  it  would 
be  quite  another  thing.  On  the  other  hand,  Alek  takes  un 
disputed  precedence  in  the  matter  of  colts,  which  the  colonel 
affects  to  think  quite  beneath  the  dignity  of  men,  though  he 
allows  Alek's  to  be  pretty  nags  enough. 

"  But  wh«t  a  waste  of  time  to  drive  them  !  Old  Turk  and 
Brown  will  take  him  once  a  week  to  the  village,  for  his  news 
paper,  and  take  a  load  of  wood,  besides.  Oxen  are  the  only 
reliable  cavalry  for  the  farmer.  What  are  colts  good  for  ?  " 

Thus  arguing  the  superiority  of  his  team,  and  directing 
the  general  force,  the  colonel  gets  over  the  ridge,  and  down 
the  valley,  and  through  the  wood.  Just  beyond  the  wood, 
near  "  Bragly's  Corner,"  are  the  cheerless-looking,  dilapi 
dated  house  and  hovel  and  shop  of  Bang  Barker,  the  thrift 
less,  broken-down  blacksmith.  In  the  house  is  his  lean,  dis 
contented,  much-abused,  and  equally  abusive  wife.  She  was 
born  with  some  of  woman's  blood  in  her  veins,  and  some  of 
the  wolf's.  Circumstances  have  suppressed  the  woman,  and 
developed  the  wolf,  llomulus  and  Ilemus  would  have  found 
in  her  a  famous  nurse ;  but  she  would  have  made  Arabs  of 
them,  instead  of  Romans,  —  at  least,  such  her  own  progeny 
have  proved.  Four  darling  boys  had  she  brought  forth,  and 
brought  up,  who,  with  precocious  genius,  had  successively 
beaten  their  mother,  set  fire  to  the  hay-rick,  stolen  'Siah 
Brown's  donkey,  robbed  widow  Bowler's  turkey -pen,  and  done 


WOLFSDEN.  47 

numberless  other  mischiefs,  before  running  away  and  going 
to  sea,  as  they  had  all  done  before  the  age  of  fifteen.  One 
hopeful  boy,  not  yet  eleven,  and  another,  "a  girl  more  young 
than  he,"  as  the  ballad  says,  remained.  Whether  they  shall 
emulate  the  spirit  of  their  elder  brethren,  remains  yet  to  be 
seen.  It  all  depends  upon  themselves ;  there  is  no  lack  of 
like  education. 

Bang  Barker  was  a  broken-down  blacksmith.  Rum  broke 
him  down.  Folks  say  that  when  he  began  at  Bragly's  Cor 
ner,  twenty  years  ago,  there  was  not  a  better  prospect  for  a 
man  in  twenty  miles.  He  was  then  twenty-five,  a  giant  in 
strength,  and  a  good  workman.  Even  now,  there  was  not  a 
surer  hand  at  giving  the  right  temper  to  an  axe,  if  he  were 
only  drunk  enough ;  or  a  quicker  workman  to  shoe  a  yoke  of 
oxen,  if  he  could  only  be  caught  sober  enough.  But  he  sel 
dom  shoes  oxen  or  tempers  axes  now.  The  uncertainty  of 
finding  him  in  a  right  mood  for  either  operation  has  driven 
custom  another  way.  When  a  neighbor  came  with  an  axe  to 
temper,  he  was  not  drunk  enough,  and  the  customer  must  get 
a  pint  at  Bragly's  for  an  eye-opener  ;  and  when  oxen  came 
to  be  shod,  the  pint  from  Bragly's  had  shut  the  Cyclops' 
eyes.  A  big,  bushy-headed,  black-bearded,  broad-chested, 
bullying  sort  of  a  Cyclops,  was  Bang..  He  could  throw  a 
barrel  of  cider  over  his  head,  and  had  knocked  down  an  ox 
with  his  fist.  His  arms  were  as  strong  as  ever,  but  his  legs 
tottered  under  his  burly  body  with  uncertain  steps,  to  which 
not  even  Bragly's  rum  could  give  steadiness. 

In  the  little  slab-covered  hovel  back  of  the  house  stood  an 
old  cow,  munching  some  sorry-looking  husks  and  poorly-made 
hay ;  and  a  few  forlorn  fowls  divided  themselves  between  the 
hovel  and  the  perch,  while  a  discontented  pig,  who  seemed  to 


48  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

complain  that  he  was  not  fat  enough  to  be  killed,  and  put  out 
of  this  sad  and  starving  world,  into  a  comfortable  pork-barrel, 
hasted  from  hovel  to  porch,  and  from  porch  to  hovel,  seeking 
somelliin"1  which  was  not  to  be  found. 

O 

In  the  shop,  nearer  the  road,  stood  the  cold,  deserted  anvil, 
by  the  black,  frozen  water-trough.  There  was  no  coal,  nor 
was  there  need  of  any,  for  iron  or  steel  there  was  none,  save 
a  few  outworn  ox-shoes  and  broken  links  of  chain,  and  a 
cracked  kettle,  sent  last  summer  for  a  hoop,  and  a  skillet 
with  a  hole  in  the  bottom,  which  some  old  lady,  believing  in 
the  omnipotence  of  iron,  had  sent  to  be  mended  ;  and  the 
fragments  of  a  glass  bottle,  which  accident  had  dashed,  with 
its  precious  contents,  upon  the  floor,  when  last  the  Vulcan  of 
this  forge  urged  the  wheezing  bellows,  and  smote  the  ringing 
anvil.  All  around  was  the  desolation  and  destitution  of 
improvidence  and  vice.  But  yet  there  was  something  indi 
cating  a  recent  slight  attempt  at  improvement ;  for  some  new 
panes  of  glass  had  recently  taken  the  place  of  old  hats  and 
bundles  of  rags,  which  generally  stuffed  the  windows  ;  and 
some  strips  of  board  had  been  nailed  over  cracks  which  the 
fallen  clapboards  had  long  ago  exposed,  and  which  had  for 
successive  seasons  admitted  the  storms.  At  sight  of  those 
slender  signs  of  improvement,  Isaac,  who  had  stopped  to  give 
Alek  an  opportunity  to  bring  his  oxen  ahead,  and  take  his 
turn  in  front,  remarked,  with  a  knowing  wink,  that  he 
guessed  Santa  Glaus  had  been  doing  a  good  chore  there 
abouts  ;  to  which  Alek,  with  an  intelligent.no:!,  merely  replied, 
"  I  guess  so." 

Let  us  now  hasten  on ;  for  the  snow  is  deep  and  the  drifts 
are  high,  and  there  is  yet  a  long  way  before  us.  Little  help 
shall  we  get  from  the  house  of  Bang,  and  it  is  not  worth 


WOLFSDEN.  49 

while  to  call  for  any.  But  look, — the  door  opens,  and  out 
comes  young  Ax.  A  big  stocking-leg  is  drawn  upon  his 
head  for  a  cap.  The  remnants  of  some  bigger  body's  frock 
are  comfortably  enough  secured  around  his  lank  yet  strong 
and  active  frame,  and  a  pair  of  coarse  new  boots,  drawn 
ostentatiously  above  his  trousers,  encase  his  legs  and  feet. 
Ike  glanced  at  the  new  boots,  and  winked  at  Alek,  who 
nodded  again,  and  then  started  his  team  in  the  direction  of 
the  pathless  road,  and  Ax  joined  the  jolly  group  of  snowy 
boys  behind. 

5 


CHAPTEK    IV 


MUSE,  who  from  the  floating  filaments  of  transient  memory 
spinnest  the  thread  of  faithful  history,  let  thy  description  be 
brief,  lest  thy  lagging  tale  tire  the  courteous  reader. 

Away  through  the  deep,  obstructing  snow,  bursting  the 
barricades  which  the  wild  mob  of  warring  winds  raised,  the 
hardy  company  are  ploughing  their  way.  They  now  ascend 
the  hill  whose  summit  is  distinguished  by  the  proud  mansion 
of  Parson  Boreman,  in  front  of  which  four  tall  Lombardy 
poplars,  like  so  many  posted  sentinels,  rear  their  stiff,  martial 
forms,  and  wave  their  tall  plumes. 

At  Bragly's  they  did  not  stop ;  for  when  did  any  help  of 
public  good  come  from  Bragly's  ?  Pitiful  dribbler  of  drams, 
and  picker  of  small  coppers  and  small  coins  !  Little-souled 
barterer  of  execrable  tea  and  poisonous  tobacco,  for  eggs  of 
nobler  hens  and  pelts  of  honest  lambs ;  sneaking  measurer 
of  penny  tapes  and  four-penny  ribbons ;  paltry  retailer  of 
clay  pipes  and  long-nine  cigars  ;  scanty  weigher  of  thin  salt- 
fish,  and  consumptive  pickled  mackerel !  Let  me,  while  the 
indignant  winds  howl  around  your  dwelling,  preach  you  a 
sermon  as  we  pass.  To  what  purpose  is  your  miserable  life, 
already  verging  upon  three-score  ?  What  spot  of  earth  is 
greener  for  your  existence  ?  What  noble  ambition  have  you 


WOLFSDEN.  51 

ever  prompted  in  another's  breast  ?  AVhat  generous  emotion 
have  you  ever  felt  in  your  own  ?  Cowering  in  the  encase 
ment  of  your  own  selfishness,  spinning  around  yourself,  like 
the  nobler  worm,  the  shroud  of  your  ignoble  end,  what 
inscription  of  infamy  shall  we  scratch  upon  your  grave,  to 
point  the  contempt  of  your  race  ?  But  we  will  not  anticipate. 
Your  epitaph  will  be  worthily  written. 

Away  from  Bragly's  let  us  hasten.  Our  company  have 
reached  the  top  of  the  hill  by  the  stately  mansion  of  Parson 
Boreman,  and  here  they  pause.  The  minister  has  a  noble 
yoke  of  oxen,  and  a  sprightly  pair  of  steers,  and  a  strong 
hired  man.  They  are  summoned  to  aid  the  struggling  band, 
and  soon  come  forth  and  are  placed  in  the  van.  Onward 
again  they  drive,  not  without  strong  invitations  to  renew 
their  strength  by  the  cheer  of  the  parson's  kitchen. 

While  they  drive  onward,  shall  we  pause  at  the  parson's  ? 
It  is  with  some  misgivings  that  we  invite  the  reader  to  a 
nearer  survey.  What  with  the  elegant  mansion  on  the  top 
of  the  hill,  and  the  tall  poplar-trees  in  front,  the  fine  oxen 
and  steers  and  their  prompt  and  stalwart  driver,  and  the  gen 
erously-proffered  hospitalities  of  the  kitchen,  we  must  have 
raised  grand  ideas  of  the  parson  and  his  dwelling,  which 
closer  observation  may  abate.  Not  that  decent  competence 
and  respectability  were  not  there,  but  that  outside  show 
exceeded  inward  reality. 

A  vague  idea  of  sham,  and  hollowness,  and  constraint, 
lurks  in  the  mind  of  the  distant  observer,  and  becomes 
stronger  as  observation  becomes  closer.  The  grandeur  of 
the  house  is  but  the  grandeur  of  needless  dimensions,  useless 
clattering  window-blinds,  faded  paint,  a  veranda  with  loose 
and  weedy  pavement,  precarious  pillars,  and  decayed  cornices. 


52  WOLF  S  DEN. 

A  lawn  fenced  with  painted  palings,  swayed  and  propped 
from  falling  by  extempore  braces ;  gates  of  light  material, 
but  ambitiously  massive  proportions,  which,  refusing  to 
swing  upon  their  loosened  hinges,  either  in  or  out,  are  kept 
by  rope  or  leathern  strap  in  a  position  obstructing,  yet  not 
totally  preventing,  entrance  and  exit.  A  front  door  so  far 
removed  from  the  family  that  the  huge  brass  knocker, 
though  it  might  be  used  as  a  battering-ram  to  force  an 
entrance,  could  by  no  means  summon  an  answer  from  within. 
An  end  door  —  the  usual  entrance  —  from  which  the  granite 
steps  seem  preparing  to  step  forth  on  some  excursion  of 
their  own,  having  moved  each  a  few  inches  from  its  original 
position,  and  with  different  angles  of  departure.  Let  us 
enter. 

The  good  old  parson  comes  forward  to  meet  us.  He  is 
good  ;  for  he  is  a  minister.  He  bids  us  welcome,  and  in 
sists  that  we  take  oif  our  outward  garments.  The  air  of  the 
room  feels  not  too  warm.  The  fire  seems  to  have  been  not 
long  burning ;  but  we  comply.  We  wish  \ve  were  boys,  and 
could  go  into  the  kitchen,  where  we  suspect  there  is  more 
comfort,  and  less  gentility.  The  impression  of  sham  makes 
us  feel  chilly.  The  parson  sits  in  his  study-chair,  not  far 
removed  from  his  study-table,  on  which  big  volumes  are 
piled.  These  are  the  tokens  of  study.  Why  should  they 
betoken  sham  ? 

The  parson  commences  conversation  concerning  the  storm. 
The  topic  is  soon  exhausted.  Local  news  lasts  a  little 
longer.  He  is  trying  your  mind,  and  taking  observations  of 
its  drift.  It  is  proper  that  a  parson  should  presume  a 
religious  bias  in  his  visitors.  He  throws  out  a  religious 
remark.  The  current  drifts  another  way.  Politics,  —  he 


53 


has  not  hit  it.  Literature,  —  uncertain;  but  the  topic  is  a 
safe  one,  and  the  parson  fancies  himself  at  home  there.  He 
has  been  composing  a  dissertation  on  the  "  lost  tribes,"  and 
their  relation  to  our  aborigines.  He  favors  you  with  his 
views,  fortified  by  some  passages  from  his  manuscript,  -which 
is  always  conveniently  near  on  such  occasions.  He  asks  your 
views  on  the  subject.  Of  course  you  know  nothing  about  it. 
He  has  you  there.  He  has  taken  the  gauge  of  your  mind, 
while  you  are  trying  to  think  of  something  besides  sham. 

A  rather  spruce,  good-looking  matron  comes  in  from  the 
kitchen.  She  is  Mrs.  Boreman,  the  wife.  You  try  to  get  rid 
of  your  impression  of  sham.  A.  good-looking  old  lady  is 
always  antagonistic  to  that  idea.  Still  you  do  not  quite 
succeed.  Another  door  opens.  A  spruce,  good-looking 
young  lady  comes  in.  That  is  Miss  Boreman,  the  daughter. 
You  make  a  desperate  effort  to  throw  off  the  impression  of 
sham.  A  good-looking  young  lady  should  be  a  perfect  anti 
dote.  But  sham  torments  you  like  the  nightmare.  Miss 
B.  has  long  since  passed  her  bread-and-butter  days;  she 
has  passed  the  days  of  indiscretion  and  coquetry;  she  has 
passed  the  days  of  timid  apprehension  and  reservedness,  and 
she  has  arrived  at  that  interesting,  though  uncertain  age, 
when  damsels  solicitous  to  please  and  to  ensnare  put  forth 
all  their  attractions.  What  generous,  manly  heart  but  beats 
responsive  to  that  sentiment,  and  smothers  the  thought  of 
sham  I 

Lucy  was  she  christened  ;  but,  from  her  early  teens,  — 
perhaps  from  her  first  sigh  ovqr  her  first  novel,  —  her  name 
has  been  Lucinda.  Her  altitude  is  not  great,  nor  is  her  cir 
cumference  large  ;  in  fact,  it  seems  painfully  slender. 
Nature  was  not  wholly  in  fault,  for  whalebone  and  stays 


D4  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

have  contracted  the  limits  which  nature  would  have  allowed. 
A  thought  crosses  your  mind  that  the  improvement  should 
have  been  the  other  way  ;  but  you  repress  naughty  thoughts 
in  a  presence  so  divine.  The  freshness  of  long-cultivated 
youthfulness  charms  you;  the  elaborate  and  shining  ringlets, 
dependent  in  regular  order  over  either  cheek,  fascinate  you  ; 
the  slender  neck  and  gentle  bosom,  bounded  by  delicate  lace, 
enchant  you  ;  the  graceful  ankle  and  taper  foot  captivate 
you.  Why  should  the  miserly  thought  of  sham  mar  your 
satisfied  admiration? 

A  pretty  table,  with  a  nice  work-basket  filled  with  the 
appropriate  implements  of  female  industry,  is  drawn  nearer 
the  fire,  and  soon  those  fair  fingers  and  bright  eyes  commence 
their  proper  and  practised  task.  She  is  apparently  netting 
a  silken  purse.  Sham.  The  purse  has  been  netting  a  long 
time.  Every  stitch  has  been  taken  in  the  presence  of  admir 
ing  visitors,  whose  eyes  have  watched  the  dextrous  move 
ments  of  those  fair  fingers  with  an  interest,  perhaps,  equal 
with  your  own.  A  deeper  purpose  pervades  that  gentle  heart, 
and  guides  those  delicate  fingers,  than  that  netted  purse 
explains. 

A  showy  annual  lies  by  her  basket,  and  invites  your  atten 
tion.  By  way  of  introducing  conversation,  you  ask  permis 
sion,  and  examine  it.  It  is  the  Religious  Souvenir.  You 
commend  its  binding  and  engravings.  It  has  pretty  senti 
mental  sonnets,  and  scraps  of  semi-religious  romance.  Many 
of  them  are  pencil-marked  in  the  margin  ;  and  so  you  learn 
that  Miss  Lucinda  is  poetic  and  sentimental,  religious  and 
romantic.  What  less  could  you  expect  ?  You  already  knew 
her  to  be  pretty,  and  engaging,  and  diligent.  What  more 
could  you  desire  ? 


WOLTSDEN.  55 

She  asks  if  you  like  botany,  and  brings  her  herbarium. 
Of  course  you  like  botany ;  but  you  blunder  about  corollas 
and  calyxes,  and  staminas  and  stigmas.  Lucinda  sets  you 
right,  and  you  see  that  she  knows  botany.  A  pretty  album 
follows  the  herbarium.  Miss  Lucinda  must  have  had  a  host 
of  devoted  friends,  some  day,  whose  "  hearts  lie  buried  here." 
"What  lots  of  sublimated  sentiments  !  Friendship,  first  born 
of  heaven  !  Platonic  love !  llemembered  regrets  !  Swell 
ing  sighs  and  eternal  farewells !  It  is  evident  that  Luciuda's 
lights  are  fled,  her  garlands  dead,  and  all  but  you  departed. 

Thank  Heaven,  you  are  here  at  home,  and  quite  competent 
to  the  occasion  ;  so  you  prepare  your  pencil,  which  she  ob 
serving,  produces  pen  and  ink,  and,  under  a  broken  tomb 
stone,  you  inscribe  a  complimentary  sentiment,  in  impromptu 
verse,  which  you  have  already  written  in  a  score  of  albums, 
but  too  far  off  to  be  detected ;  and  so  you  subscribe  your 
initials,  while  conscience  retorts  upon  you,  "  Sham  !  " 

We  are  invited  to  remain  to  dinner.  Let  us  remain.  We 
feel  that  some  little  preparation  has  been  made  from  the 
beginning,  in  that  anticipation.  It  shall  not  be  disappointed. 
It  is  worth  while  to  study  a  little  longer  those  features  of 
society  which,  though  rather  commonplace,  are  not  wholly 
uninstructive.  It  is  fair,  also,  and  perhaps  not  wholly  un 
pleasant,  to  be  studied  in  turn  by  those  who  pay  us  the  com 
pliment  of  thinking  it  worth  their  while. 

From  albums  and  herbariums  to  politics  the  transition 
seems  rather  abrupt ;  but  it  becomes  a  necessity,  for  rural 
affairs  are  out  of  season  in  mid-winter,  and  the  legislature 
and  congress  are  in  session,  and  men's  minds  tend  to 
public  affairs.  The  parson  is  non-committal ;  and,  therefore, 
however  decided  and  strong  our  predilections,  we  also  are 


56  WOLFSDEN. 

non-commifcil ;  and  in  this  mock-neutral  spirit  we  proceed  to 
discuss  the  merits  of  our  governmental  administration,  the 
qualities  of  our  public  men,  the  chances  of  prominent  political 
aspirants,  the  character  and  spirit  of  messages,  speeches, 
reports,  and  other  national  and  state  proceedings,  till  dinner 
is  announced. 

However  we  may  have  relished  the  feast  of  reason  and 
the  flow  of  soul,  and  all  the  elaborate  elegances  of  the  par 
son's  parlor,  we  are  happy  to  change  the  scene  and  the  sub 
ject  for  the  genial  and  welcome-looking  kitchen,  the  ample 
and  well-spread  table,  and  the  good  and  substantial  dinner. 
It  is  all  that  it  should  be,  and  well  worth  the  complacent 
parson's  devout  and  dignified  thanks  and  blessing.  Fat  ribs 
of  beef  and  a  dainty  shoulder  of  pork  smoke  from  the  boiling 
pot,  and  sweat  big  tears  of  shining  fat,  as  if  yet  panting  from 
their  fiery  trial.  Around  them,  ranged  in  due  order,  is  a 
bounteous  vegetable  store;  potatoes  bursting  with  internal 
heat,  white  turnips,  —  mimic  spheres,  flattened  at  the  poles, 
—  beets,  parsnips,  carrots,  and  cabbage,  prove  by  their  size 
and  flavor  that  the  parson  has  not  been  unmindful  of  his  own 
garden  while  weeding  the  sins  of  his  parish.  Bread, — 
brown  and  white,  —  butter  and  cheese,  such  as  only  a  farmer's 
wife,  emulous  of  good  works,  can  produce ;  pudding,  pies, 
and  doughnuts,  which  you  hope  the  fair  Lucinda  helped 
to  flavor,  all  combine  to  convince  you  that,  wherever  else 
hollowness  and  sham  prevail,  the  country  kitchen  is  the  last 
retreat  and  most  impregnable  castle  of  honest,  generous 
life. 

We  feel  an  instinctive  reverence  for  the  good  parson, 
whom  Heaven  blesses  with  so  bountiful  a  board ;  and  the 
gentle  impression  comes  upon  our  minds  that  there  might  be 


\V  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  .  57  - 

a  worse  mistake  than  to  take  the  fair  Lucinda  and  settle  down 
somewhere  in  the  midst  of  so  much  rural  abundance  and  hap 
piness.  Blessed  be  the  benign  influences  which  lie  latent  in 
well-packed  barrels  of  pork  and  beef,  and  well-filled  bins  of 
potatoes  and  turnips,  waiting  only  the  alchemy  of  the  kitchen 
to  expand  the  frame  and  the  heart  of  man  with  healthful 
strength  and  generous  emotion  ! 

We  are  invited  to  pass  the  evening,  and  should  like  to  do 
so ;  but  other  affairs  press,  and  now  we  must  go. 

"  Please  to  come  again." 

"  Certainly ;  we  shall  not  fail  to  do  so." 

It  is  no\v  too  late  to  visit  the  village.  Our  company  have 
returned  an  hour  since.  But  they  must  break  off  at  Bragly's, 
to  track  the  road  to  the  school-house.  We  shall  overtake 
them  before  they  get  home.  We  do  overtake  them  at  Colo 
nel  Bowler's.  Alek  has  stopped  there  a  few  moments.  He 
generally  stops  there  when  passing ;  if  he  did  not,  some  tears 
would  fall  from  a  bright  pair  of  young  eyes.  A  little  girl 
there  calls  him  uncle.  He  is  not  her  uncle,  nor  of  kin  in 
any  other  degree ;  but  there  is  no  name  of  kindred  too  dear 
for  her  to  apply  to  him.  She  calls  him  her  dear  uncle.  Ho 
calls  her  his  dear  daughter.  Well  may  she  call  him  her  dear 
uncle  ;  —  she  owes  him  her  life.  Well  may  he  call  her  dear 
daughter ;  —  it  was  he  who  rescued  her  from  a  terrible  death. 

O  ' 

This  is  a  tie  of  love  as  sacred  as  that  of  a  father,  or  at  least 
as  sweet.  He  feels  all  the  luxury  of  loving  the  child  whose 
life  he  has  saved;  she  feels  all  the  gratitude  and  confiding 
affection  with  which  a  loving  child  clings  to  a  tender  father. 
The  story  is  now  an  old  one;  it  happened  three  years  ago. 
She  was  then  but  six  years  old.  But  we  may  as  well  repeat 
it  now.  Alek  and  the  boys  have  yet  to  take  care  of  the 


58  WOLFSDEN. 

oxen's  dinner  and  their  own.  Alek  embraces  the  dear 
daughter,  and  promises,  for  the  hundredth  time,  to  take  her 
home  to  live  with  him,  when  he  gets  a  house,  and  a  wife,  and 
a  pony  ;  and  she  — the  little  Amy  —  verily  believes  in  that 
good  time  coming,  and  dreams  golden  dreams. 


CHAPTER    V. 


SINCE  we  must  stop  at  Colonel  Bowler's  to  tell  our  story, 
propriety  requires  us  to  introduce  the  family.  You  have  seen 
the  old  colonel  before.  He  calls  himself  old,  and  we  will  not 
refuse  him  the  compliment.  He  is  only  sixty-seven  ;  but  he 
speaks  of  verging  to  seventy-six.  This,  however,  is  in  refer 
ence  to  that  glorious  era  of  the  llevolution. 

Three  solid  sciences  the  colonel  knows :  arithmetic,  agri 
culture  and  history.  Arithmetic  from  Duboll,  agriculture 
from  experience,  and  history  from  Weems'  Life  of  Washing 
ton.  Three  lighter  arts  amuse  his  leisure  :  military  tactics, 
poetry,  and  music.  Military  from  Steuben's  Manual  Exercise, 
and  poetry  from  the  calendar  pages  of  the  Farmers'  Almanac. 
The  hymns  of  Watts  come  not  in  this  department,  but  in 
ihat  of  music,  being  made  for  singing  ;  but  the  ballad  of  the 
Major's  only  Son  and  Barbara  Allen's  Cruelty  complete  the 
poetical  library.  The  music  is  psalmody,  and  came  by 
nature.  A  noble  bass  the  colonel  sings ;  he  has  always  led 
the  bass  in  Parson  Boreman's  choir.  Once  there  was  trouble 
about  the  bass-viol,  which  Major  Murray  objected  to ;  he 
would  not  hear  the  "  big  fiddle  "  in  the  house  of  the  Lord. 
It  was  played  one  or  two  Sundays  before  he  found  it  out;  for 
the  major  had  no  ear  for  music, —  couldn't  tell  the  filing  of 


60  WOLFS  DEN. 

a  saw  from  a  jewsharp  ;  —  but  he  saw  the  colonel  bringing 
in  the  big  fiddle,  one  day,  and  made  up  his  mind  what  to  do 
about  it.  When  the  choir  commenced  the  first  hymn,  he  took 
his  hat  and  marched  out  of  the  meeting-house.  It  was  plain 
he  had  determined  to  bear  no  part  in  the  profanation,  and 
meant  everybody  should  know  it.  The  colonel  understood  it, 
and,  choosing  to  remove  the  stumbling-block  from  the  major's 
path,  brought  out  the  viol  ostentatiously  when  the  morning 
service  was  closed,  and  sent  it  home.  The  major  was  com 
fortable  that  afternoon,  and  for  a  dozen  Sundays  following, 
though  the  viol,  which  the  colonel  had  secretly  restored,  was 
regularly  played.  Some  mischief-maker  at  last  told  the 
major.  lie  was  full  of  indignation,  and  said  that  if  he  heard  it 
again  he  should  quit  the  meeting-house.  The  colonel  heard 
of  the  threat,  and  removed  the  viol.  Next  Sunday  the  major 
came  with  ears  and  conscience  wide  awake  to  detect  the  sin 
ful  sound.  The  hymn  was  given  out,  and  the  colonel  sounded 
the  key-note  in  his  deepest  tone,  imitating  the  bass-viol  as 
nearly  as  possible.  The  major,  proud  of  the  quickness  of  his 
ear  and  the  promptitude  of  his  principles,  immediately 
marched  out  of  the  meeting-house.  lie  stood  reverently  on 
the  steps  in  prayer-time,  and,  after  the  second  singing,  re 
turned  to  hear  the  sermon.  After  service  the  colonel  walked 
up  to  the  major,  and  asked  why  he  left  the  house  in  singing 
time. 

"Because,"  he  replied,  "you  made  it  a  fiddling-time. 
Did  n't  I  hear  your  big  fiddle  ?  You  can't  cheat  me  !  —  I  can 
tell  it  as  fur  off  as  I  can  hear  my  black'bull ;  and  it  sounds 
just  like  him  !  " 

The  colonel  assured  him  that  there  had  been  no  bass-viol, 
nor  any  black  bull,  in  the  meeting-house  that  day,  adding 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  .  61 

that  his  own  voice  was  a  little  hoarse,  which  probably  caused 
the  mistake.  The  major  was  convinced  that  he  could  not 
trust  his  own  ears  in  that  matter,  and  said  no  more  upon  the 
subject,  though  the  viol  was  restored  to  its  place  in  the  choir. 

A  hale,  hearty,  self-opinionated,  and  yet  very  manageable, 
stern-spoken,  and  yet  very  tender-hearted,  frugal,  yet 
generous  old  man,  is  the  colonel.  His  wife,  a  cheery,  blue- 
eyed,  round-featured,  double-chinned,  close-capped  matron,  is 
a  dozen  years  younger  than  the  colonel,  and  looking  younger 
still.  Always  busy,  but  never  tired ;  always  scolding,  but 
never  cross ;  always  cooking  up  all  sorts  of  good  things  for 
everybody,  but  always  choosing  the  plainest  food  for  her 
self;  never  sick,  but  with  a  whole  garret-full  of  herbs  and 
chest-full  of  medicines  for  others'  sickness ;  never  going 
abroad,  but  always  ready  to  "  fix  up  "  and  start  off  the  family 
on  visiting  excursions.  In  short,  assuming  and  governing  as 
mistress  of  all,  and  yet  making  herself  servant  of  all. 

Samuel,  the  oldest  boy,  married  Job  Brown's  daughter 
Betsey,  sister  of  Josiah.  A  good  wife  was  she ;  but  Samuel 
died  within  the  year,  soon  after  little  Samuel,  the  colonel's 
"  adjutant,"  was  born.  Jacob  married  Samuel's  widow,  and 
now  resides  in  a  part  of  his  father's  house  till  he  can  finish  his 
own.  The  colonel  made  the  last  match, — the  only  one  he  ever 
made,  except  his  own, —  and  both  were  good  ones.  The  widow, 
his  daughter-in-law,  was  the  favorite  of  Aunt  Jane,  and  the 
adjutant* was  indispensable  to  his  grandfather.  Perhaps  the 
colonel  and  his  wife  had  talked  it  over  ;  at  any  rate,  it  was  the 
colonel  who,  as  he  said,  broke  the  ice.  "  Jacob,"  said  he,  one 
day,  when  they  were  alone,  "  Jacob,  it 's  time  for  you  to  be 
doing  something  for  yourself.  Go  over  to  Job  Brown's,  and 
get  Betsey.  Your  mother  wants  her  nearer ;  I  want  Sammy ; 
6 


62  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

and  you  want  a  good  wife,  and  the  Morgan  farm,  that  your 
poor  brother  bought,  but  did  not  live  to  enjoy.  I  have  pretty 
much  paid  for  it,  and  you  and  she  may  have  it.  The  old 
house  on  it  is  good  for  nothing,  but  we  '11  build  a  new  one, 
and  you  and  Betsey  may  have  our  end  parlor,  and  we  '11  all 
eat  together  till  it 's  done." 

Jacob  blushed,  but  wisely  said  nothing.  Upon  such  a  mat 
ter,  a  man  should  think  twice  before  he  speaks,  even  to  his 
father.  He  afterwards  said  that  he  never  was  "  so  struck  up 
in  a  heap  "  in  his  life.  But  he  thought  of  it.  The  next  day 
his  father  asked  if  he  had  done  the  thing  mentioned  yester 
day —  just  as  if  it  was  a  thing  to  be  done  in  a  hurry.  Jacob 
replied,  "  Hot  quite  yet,  father." 

"  Well,  you  mean  to,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Why,  it  don't  look  bad,  father,  if  nobody  objects." 

"  Why,  nobody  objects,  of  course,  till  they  are  asked ;  so 
you  'd  better  be  about  it  before  it 's  too  late.  Such  a  girl 
as  she  needn't  wait  long  for  such  a  lubber  as  can't  speak." 

"  Thank  you,  father,  for  the  compliment ;  but,  I  'm  think 
ing  that  as  you  have  begun  the  business  so  well,  it  will  be 
best  for  you  to  carry  it  through.  Perhaps  you  '11  go  over 
and  introduce  the  matter." 

"  Why,  han't  I  introduced  the  matter  ?  Who  but  me  put 
it  into  your  head  ?  I  've  done  my  part.  However,  if  you 
han't  the  pluck,  get  your  mother  to  go  for  you  ;  or  rather  go 
and  invite  Betsey  to  bring  Sammy  and  pay  a  visit,  and  we  '11 
talk  it  over  here." 

This  last  device  suited  Jacob  well ;  it  turned  out  well,  and 
all  were  happy  ever  after. 

Isaac  was  next  to  Jacob.  Their  names  had  got  reversed 
from  Scripture  order.  He  was  about  Alek's  age. 


WOLFSDKN.  63 

George,  one  of  the  twins,  was  younger.  A  good  fellow,  he, 
and  a  droll  one  —  the  wag  of  the  family.  They  said  he  be 
came  so  by  sitting  on  the  dye-pot  when  little.  The  dye-pot,  in 
which  woollen  yarn  is  colored,  generally  stands  covered  with  a 
board,  in  one  corner  of  the  capacious  fireplace,  and  whoever 
sits  on  the  dye-pot  grows  witty.  George  was  full  of  fun,  odd 
jokes,  quick  repartees,  and  raillery,  ridiculous  representa 
tions  of  others'  acts,  or  of  his  own  ;  full  of  laughter  and 
merriment,  yet  serious  at  times  —  more  serious  than  anybody 
else. 

Music  was  his  passion.  He  could  draw  music  from  a  corn 
stalk  fiddle,  or  a  pumpkin-vine  trombone.  At  twelve  years  he 
played  the  fife  for  the  Wolfsden  Light  Infantry ;  and  lively 
were  the  tunes  he  played.  At  thirteen,  with  an  old  fiddle,  he 
made  many  a  husking  and  apple-paring  merry.  Nobody  so 
popular,  and  so  much  sought  after,  as  George.  The  colonel 
was  gratified,  but  dissatisfied.  He  was  pleased  with  his  son's 
genius,  but  predicted  his  ruin.  "  But,"  said  he,  "  it 's  no  use 
to  interfere.  We'll  give  him  good  counsel,  and  trust  Provi 
dence."  The  result  proved  the  resolution  good.  George 
threw  away  his  fiddle,  and  everything  of  the  sort,  before  he 
was  eighteen.  "  Too  boyish,"  he  said. 

James,  his  brother,  was  a  more  retiring,  pensive  boy.  We 
will  not  say  much  about  James.  Perhaps  the  reader  may  get 
some  notion  of  him  as  we  proceed. 

Of  the  girls,  Ann  is  the  oldest.  Everybody  allows  that 
she  is  a  good  and  good-looking  girl.  Josiah  Brown  evidently 
admires  her.  People  joke  her  about  it.  She  says  Josiah 
Brown  is  nothing  to  her  ;  "  he  comes  over  to  see  his  sister,  and 
it 's  well  enough  to  talk  with  him  ;  he  is  Betsey's  brother,  and 
a  civil,  respectable  person  enough.  She  wishes  to  be  civil  to 


64  WOLFSDEN. 

everybody."  Very  discreet  and  very  considerate  of  you,  Miss 
Ann  !  Have  courage,  Josiah !  To  be  civil  and  respectable, 
and  Betsey's  brother,  is  a  good  beginning. 

Hannah  comes  next  —  younger  than  Ann.  A  good  girl, 
and  good  singer.  Hers  are  the  truest  tones  in  the  choir ; 
and,  being  -willing  to  sing  anywhere, —  at  the  foot  as  at  the 
head,  —  she  escapes  the  jealousy  and  trouble  about  precedence 
which  vex  the  others. 

Amy  is  the  youngest.  She  it  is  of  whom  we  promised  the 
story,  and  for  whose  sake  chiefly  we  have  introduced  the  oth 
ers.  Amy  is  only  nine  years  old,  and  small  at  that.  Three 
years  ago  she  was  only  six,  and  smaller  still.  A  little,  fairy- 
like  pet,  dark  eyes,  bright  hair  and  complexion,  generally 
sprightly,  yet  often  thoughtful,  and  almost  sad.  She  is  in 
dulged  in  everything,  yet  not  spoiled  by  indulgence.  She 
seems  to  have  an  intuitive  perception  of  right,  and  never  asks 
anything  wrong  ;  or,  if  she  takes  a  whim  for  anything  judged 
inexpedient,  she  never  insists.  Some  tempers  are  so  ami 
able  that  love  seems  their  proper  discipline,  the  atmosphere 
where  they  thrive  best.  Perhaps  that  discipline  and  atmos 
phere  would  suit  more  than  have  a  chance  to  benefit  by  it. 
Amy  grew  up  in  it ;  everybody  loved  her,  and  she  loved 
everybody. 

Three  years  ago  last  haying-time,  Amy  was  six  years  old. 
Haying  was  pretty  much  done,  at  home  ;  but,  since  Samuel's 
death,  the  colonel  had  also  to  manage  the  "  Morgan  farm." 
All  the  force  of  the  farm,  with  an  extra  hand  or  two,  was  now 
employed  in  getting  the  hay  clown  there.  They  went  early, 
and  generally  returned  at  sunset,  taking  home  a  load  with 
them.  Blueberries  were  ripe,  and  very  pjenty.  The  road 
down  to  the  Morgan  farm  was  retired  —  not  a  public  road 


WOLFSDEN.  63 

only  a  cross  road,  but  very  pleasant.  Tall  pines  grew  occa 
sionally  along  the  way.  In  some  places  a  grove  of  young 
trees  offered  a  cool  resting-place  —  a  smooth,  soft  surface,  and 
a  grateful,  fragrant  shade.  Here  and  there,  also,  a  spreading 
beech  gave  a  dense  shadow,  where,  when  the  frost  comes  and 
opens  the  burrs,  the  clean,  sweet  beechnuts  strew  the  ground, 
and  attract  eager  children.  Now  that  the  sweeter  blueberries 
bordered  the  road  on  both  sides,  Amy  came  every  day  and  filled 
her  little  basket.  Nobody  picked  such  sweet  berries  as  Amy. 

It  was  but  half  a  mile  to  the  Morgan  place.  Amy  often 
went  there  in  company  with  her  sisters,  but  not  alone.  She 
only  went  a  little  way,  perhaps  a  third  of  the  distance,  to  fill 
her  basket ;  but,  as  they  were  haying  down  there,  she  ventured 
a  little  further  —  so  far  that  she  could  see  them  away  down  in 
the  field,  there,  mowing  and  tossing  about  the  hay,  and  old 
Turk  and  Brown  yoked  and  lying  down  by  the  cart,  ready  to 
draw  it  home  at  night.  Next  day  she  ventured  further. 
Isaac  was  loading  the  cart,  and  the  colonel  was  on  it,  stow 
ing  the  load.  George  and  James  were  raking.  They  saw 
Amy  in  the  distance,  and  called  her.  She  was  glad  to  go  and 
see  them  rake  the  hay,  and  show  them  her  berries. 

When  the  load  was  finished,  Isaac  lifted  her  up  to  ride 
home  with  her  father.  Old  Turk  and  Brown  did  not  mind 
the  additional  load,  but  jogged  lazily  home,  no  way  disposed 
to  give  unnecessary  jolts.  Delightful  ride  was  that  upon  the 
hay  to  Amy  !  No  splendid  coach  in  Broadway  ever  bore  a 
happier  freight. 

The  next  day  she  went  again.     She  filled  her  basket  sooner 

than  before,  and  was  in  the  field  before  the  time  of  loading  up 

for  home.     After  talking  and  playing  a  few  moments  with 

George  and  James,  who  were  too  busy  to  be  detained  long, 

6* 


66  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

she  returned  to  heap  her  basket  a  little  higher,  and  pick 
some  wild-flowers  to  put  into  her  little  vase. 

She  did  not  return  to  the  field ;  but  that  caused  no  alarm. 
They  supposed  she  had  returned  home.  The  road  was  plain, 
and  almost  the  whole  way  in  sight,  either  of  the  field 
where  they  were  at  work,  or  of  her  home.  In  one  place 
it  diverged  a  little  way  into  the  woods,  along  the  border  of 
which  it  ran,  but  soon  returned.  There  was  no  getting  out 
of  it,  for  no  other  roads  led  from  it  ;*and,  besides,  being  so 
recently  travelled  with  heavy  loads  of  hay,  it  was  as  plain  as 
the  turnpike. 

But  Amy  did  not  return  home.  As  they  were  not  expect 
ing  her  till  the  men  should  return  with  the  load,  they  could 
not  be  alarmed,  and  the  hours  passed  on. 

But  where  was  Amy  ? 

When  she  returned  to  the  road,  she  heaped  up  her  little 
basket  as  long  as  the  berries  would  lie,  and  then  she  sat 
down  her  basket  by  a  little  tree,  and  looked  for  flowers  for 
her  bouquet.  The  summer  sun  had  dried  up  most  of  the 
pretty  flowers,  but  here  and  there  might  be  found  a  tall  yel 
low  lily,  or  a  bunch  of  columbines,  or  an  oxeye  daisy,  — 
gaudy,  but  scentless  flowers.  But  she  gathered  the  fairest 
she  could  find,  and  in  her.  hands  they  looked  fair  enough ;  and 
still  she  wandered  on,  looking  for  more  and  prettier.  She 
was  pursuing  the  direction  opposite  from  home,  as  she  knew 
well  enough,  but  meant  to  return  to  her  basket  in  a  few 
minutes;  and  so  she  went  on  a  little  further,  and  a  little 
further  still. 

In  the  edge  of  the  woods,  a  very  little  way,  she  saw  a 
bunch  of  beautiful  flowers,  crimson  and  gold.  Country  people 
call  the  plant  celandine,  and  children  call  the  flowers  lady's 


WOLFSDEN.  6^ 

eardrops.  Amy  ran  in  and  gathered  them.  There  were  a 
good  many.  They  grew  around  and  among  some  stones  which 
were  partly  covered  with  white  moss.  She  filled  both  hands, 
and  then  ran  to  find  where  she  had  placed  her  basket. 
She  returned  to  the  road,  and  ran  along  in  it,  not  doubting 
that  she  was  returning.  Her  little  brain  was  confused,  — 
"turned  round,"  as  they  say,  —  she  was  going  the  wrong 
way  —  still  away  from  home.  Her  little  cape-bonnet  covered 
her  face,  as  she  ran  along  with  her  eyes  upon  the  ground,  but 
once  in  a  while  looking  up  to  see  the  tree  where  she  had  de 
posited  her  basket.  She  ran  a  good  way,  then  she  walked  a 
good  way  ;  still  she  could  not  see  the  tree  —  not  that  tree  ; 
there  were  a  good  many  trees,  and  they  grew  more  and  more 
plenty.  They  grew  on  both  sides  of  the  road ;  she  had  not 
marked  that  before  ;  she  wondered  that  she  had  come  so  far 
without  knowing  it:  and  then  she  ran  again;  she  ran  a  good 
way ;  the  trees  grew  thicker  ;  the  road  became  more  obscure. 
In  one  or  two  places  other  paths  diverged  to  the  right  or  left. 
She  was  tired  with  running,  and  so  she  walked  again  ;  but  she 
walked  fast.  The  road  became  less  distinct.  Little  bushes 
grew  up  in  the  middle  of  it;  then  it  turned  out  of  its  direc 
tion,  to  pass  round  some  great  trees  ;  on  the  other  side  of  the 
great  trees  she  could  see  hardly  any  road  at  all,  and  then  she 
began  to  fear  that  she  was  lost  —  lost  in  the  woods,  like  the 
little  babes.  The  terror  of  the  thought  thrilled  her  little 
frame,  and  nerved  her  with  new  strength.  She  ran  along  in 
the  direction  which  looked  most  like  the  road.  She  ran  hard, 
and  ran  a  good  way;  and,  as  the  terror  pursued  her,  she  ran 
still  the  harder,  as  if  to  escape  from  it.  She  panted  for 
breath  ;  she  stumbled,  and  fell.  It  did  not  hurt  her  much  ; 
if  it  had  hurt  her  more,  she  would  not  have  minded  it  now. 


68  WOLFSDEN. 

She  regained  her  feet,  and  would  have  run  again,  but  she 
could  see  no  road.  There  -was  none.  Then  she  knew  she  was 
lost.  She  thought  she  would  return  and  find  the  road  where 
it  went  round  the  great  clump  of  trees.  She  looked  for  the 
great  clump  of  trees,  and  thought  she  saw  them  ;  but  they 
appeared  to  be  in  the  wrong  direction.  There  was  a  clump 
of  trees  in  the  other  direction,  but  they  looked  differently.  In 
other  directions  were  other  great  clumps  of  trees,  and  she 
knew  not  which  to  go  to.  She  thought  she  would  go  to  them 
all,  till  ^he  found  the  road ;  but  when  she  got  to  the  first, 
there  was  no  road,  but  other  clumps  of  trees  on  every  side; 
and  then  she  knew  that  she  was  lost  —  lost  like  the  babes  in 
the  wood. 

She  thought  she  would  pray  to  God ;  and  then  she  doubted 
•whether  God  could  hear  her  in  the  dark  woods,  where  the  tall 
trees  shut  out  the  heavens  where  he  lives.  She  knew  he 
could  hear  her  in  her  little  bedroom  at  home  ;  for  there  her 
mother  had  taught  her  to  pray,  and  there  her  mother  and  her 
sisters  prayed,  and  God  knew  the  place;  but  did  he  know 
that  she  was  lost  in  those  lone  woods  ?  Had  he  seen  her  come 
there?  Could  he  hear  her  there?  May  be  he  could.  And 
so  she  prayed  that  God  would  come  and  show  her  the  way 
back,  and  carry  her  back,  for  she  was  very  tired,  —  only 
carry  her  back  to  her  little  basket,  and  then  her  father  would 
take  her  home  on  the  hay ;  and  she  prayed  that  he  would  not 
let  the  bears  and  wolves  get  her. 

And  then  she  sat  down,  and  waited  for  God  to  come.  She 
waited  a  good  while,  but  she  knew  heaven  was  a  good  way 
off,  and  she  resolved  to  be  patient. 

The  road  to  the  Morgan  place  turned  off  from  the  main 
road  a  little  north  of  Colonel  Bowler's.  It  was  but  a  cross  or 


WOLFSDEN.  65 

private  road,  and  not  a  public  way.  The  entrance  was  gene 
rally  closed  by  a  gate.  It  was  a  good  smooth  road  down  as 
far  as  the  Morgan  place  ;  beyond  that  it  was  little  used  in 
summer,  and  in  the  winter  only  to  draw  wood  homeward,  and 
timber  to  the  river.  The  river,  in  that  direction,  is  two 
miles  off.  In  a  more  northerly  direction  it  is  nearer,  but 
southwardly  it  diverges  further.  The  road  is  good  in  winter, 
but,  not  being  used  in  summer,  is  scarcely  distinguishable, 
except  for  perhaps  half  a  mile  beyond  the  Morgan  place. 

Amy  was  now  more  than  two  miles  off;  for  she  had 
diverged  towards  the  south,  and  was  still  far  from  the  river. 
In  one  short  hour  she  had  gone  all  that  weary  way,  and  now 
she  sat  among  the  leaves  at  the  foot  of  a  tall  old  maple, 
waiting  for  God  to  come  and  help  her.  A  little  ribbon  which 
bound  her  hair  was  found  under  the  tree  the '  next  day,  by 
which  it  was  known  where  she  rested ;  and  she  afterwards 
told  that  when  she  prayed  to  God  she  heard  it  thunder  a 
good  way  off,  and  thought  may  be  it  was  God  speaking  to 
her.  The  thunder  was  heard  in  the  haying-field  about  an 
hour  after  little  Amy  had  left. 

"While  Amy  sat  under  the  tall  old  maple  fur  away  in  the 
boundless  forest,  waiting  for  God  to  come,  her  father  and 
brothers  were  diligently  completing  their  day's  work  in  the 
haying-field,  and  her  mother  and  sisters  were  busy  at  home, 
little  suspecting  the  peril  of  their  beloved  one. 

The  slight  thread  of  mystery,  which  runs  through  so  many 
of  the  incidents  of  this  story,  as  traced  in  my  memory,  here 
again  makes  its  appearance.  It  shall  not  be  suppressed ;  for 
trifles  often  serve  as  indications  of  the  sublimest  truths. 

That  afternoon,  a  little  before  the  thunder  was  heard,  as 
Aunt  Deborah  Arbor  was  about  her  household  affairs,  she 


70  WOLFSDEN. 

became  suddenly  impressed  with  the  idea  of  trouble  and  mis 
fortune  at  Colonel  Bowler's.  She  tried  to  turn  it  off,  an\ 
kept  about  her  work ;  but  the  impression  grew  too  strong  for 
her  quiet.  The  afternoon  was  warm,  and  the  distant  thunder 
might  forbode  a  shower ;  but  she  resolved  to  obey  the  voice 
within,  and,  telling  Helen  to  send  Alek  after  her,  if  she 
should  be  detained,  she  put  on  her  sun-bonnet,  took  an 
umbrella,  and  departed.  It  was  nearly  half  a  mile,  but  she 
walked  fast,  and  was  soon  there.  Her  first  words  were  an 
inquiry  after  Amy.  They  told  her  that  she  was  with  her 
father  and  brothers  in  the  haying-field.  After  resting  a  few 
moments,  she  said  that  she  would  go  down  to  the  place.  It 
seemed  a  strange  proposition,  that  warm  afternoon,  after  so 
long  a  walk ;  but  Ann  and  Hannah  immediately  offered  to 
accompany  he"r.  Aunt  Deborah  accepted  Ann's  company, 
but  told  Hannah  to  remain  at  home,  and  help  her  mother. 
On  the  way  she  made-several  inquiries  of  Ann  about  Amy, — 
when  she  went,  &c.,  —  but  without  a  word  of  explanation. 
When  they  arrived  in  sight  of  the  hay-field,  the  men  and  boys 
were  loading  and  raking;  but  Amy  was  not  in  sight.  "  Run 
and  find  Amy  ! "  exclaimed  Aunt  Deborah,  pale  with  excite 
ment.  Ann,  alarmed  at  her  manner,  flew  across  the  field, 
calling,  as  she  approached  her  brothers,  for  Amy. 

"  Why,  she  went  home  two  hours  ago,"  exclaimed  they  all. 

The  alarm  was  instantly  communicated.  Hasty  and  frantic 
inquiries  were  made.  The  boys  threw  down  their  rakes,  the 
colonel  leaped  from  the  load,  Isaac  detached  the  pin  which 
fastened  the  oxen  to  the  cart,  and,  in  less  than  a  minute,  all 
were  in  the  road,  running,  calling,  shouting,  exploring  the 
woods  in  various  directions,  and  making  every  effort  which 
the  agony  of  terror  or  the  suggestions  of  hope  could  inspire. 


WOLFS  DEN.  71 

They  soon  found  the  little  basket,  filled  with  berries,  which 
she  hud  left  under  the  tree.  Unfortunately  this  happened  to 
be  by  a  little  path,  which  went  into  the  woods  toward  the 
north,  at  a  right  angle  with  the  road  which  she  had  pursued  ; 
and  they  inferred  that  she  had  taken  that  path,  especially  as 
it  led  to  a  grove  of  sugar-maples,  where  was  a  little  hut 
used  in  the  sugar  season,  and  where  the  sap-troughs  and  other 
conveniences  were  kept.  She  had  been  led  there  once  to  see 
these  wonders,  and  was  much  delighted  with  them;  —  all 
therefore  turned  to  explore  the  woods  in  that  direction,  and 
tired  the  echoes  with  their  frantic  calls,  while  Amy  was  wait 
ing  under  the  old  maple,  two  miles  away,  for  God  to  come 
and  take  her. 

Meanwhile  Aunt  Deborah  hurried  back  to  the  house  alone  ; 
for  Ann  could  not  be  kept  back  from  joining  in  the  search. 
Alek  had  come  after  his  mother  in  the  wagon,  and  all  were 
instantly  informed  of  the  terrible  truth.  Aunt  Deborah 
hastened  home  with  the  horse  and  wagon  to  summon  the 
family,  and  Alek  flew  to  join  in  the  search. 

In  an  hour,  all  the  men  within  two  miles  were  in  the 
woods,  and  women  in  wagons  hurrying  for  more  help.  The 
search  was  kept  up  all  that  night.  In  the  morning,  before 
sunrise,  hundreds  of  men  and  boys,  from  every  direction, 
were  collected  at  Colonel  Bowler's,  ready  to  follow  any  orders 
from  him.  By  the  advice  of  Deacon  Arbor,  horns  were 
sounded  as  a  signal  for  the  men  in  the  woods  to  return,  and  a 
council  of  proceedings  was  held.  It  was  pretty  clear  that  the 
"missing  one  was  not  in  the  direction  where-  they  had  been 
searching,  for  the  whole  woods  on  that  side  had  now  been 
explored  for  miles. 

A  systematic  plan   of  thorough   search  was  now  speedily 


i  iJ  WOLfSDXH. 

adopted.  The  whole  company  formed  in  a  line,  extending 
more  than  two  miles,  tlie  individuals  being  within  hailing  dis 
tance.  All  were  directed  to  march  in  silence,  except  that 
every  minute  the  word  March  was  passed  along  the  line. 
The  silence  was  required  to  listen  for  any  sound ;  and  the 
frequent  shout  of  march,  not  only  to  attract  the  attention  of 
the  lost  one,  if  in  hearing,  but  also  to  give  such  individuals 
as  could  not  see  the  others  proper  indications  of  course  and 
distance. 

In  this  way  they  extended  themselves,  and  took  up  their 
march  toward  the  river,  from  a  little  beyond  where  Amy  left 
her  basket ;  and  if  she  had  but  remained  where  we  left  her, 
under  the  old  maple-tree,  they  would  soon  have  found  her. 
Every  rod  of  ground  was  explored,  as  they  passed;  and  long 
before  noon  the  ribbon  which  bound  her  hair  was  found 
under  the  old  maple,  and  immediately  sent  to  the  house,  to 
communicate  fhe  encouraging  presage  of  success,  and  also  to 
show  that  search  in  other  directions  was  not  needed  ;  for  the 
search  was  still  being  pursued,  by  women  and  others,  in  the 
direction  of  the  maple-grove,  and  elsewhere. 

Refreshments  of  bread,  cheese,  beer,  and  water,  were 
brought,  and  passed  along  the  line,  without  intermitting  the 
search ;  but  no  further  indications  of  their  object  were  dis 
covered  that  da}'.  Before  night  they  had  explored  the  whole 
ground  swept  by  their  line  of  march  to  the  river,  being  nine 
or  ten  square  miles,  besides  their  previous  search.  When 
they  arrived  at  the  river,  another  council  was  held.  The 
company  divided,  and  two  lines  were  formed,  each  extending 
from  the  river  as  far  towards  their  first  point  of  starting  as' 
their  number  would  allow,  and  which  was  far  enough  to 


WOLFSDEN.  73 

sweep  all  the  ground  that  the  fugitive  could  in  any  likelihood 
have  passed. 

In  the  same  order  as  before,  one  wing  moved  down  the 
river,  and  the  other  moved  up..  The  wing  moving  down  the 
river  was  longest,  extending  nearly  two  miles  back ;  on  the 
other  side,  the  course  of  the  river  made  a  less  extensive  line 
sufficient  to  cover  the  ground.  The  upper  wing  had  also  but 
about  two  miles  ahead,  before  corning  to  a  county  road, 
which,  of  course,  must  terminate  their  search  in  that  direc 
tion.  The  route  of  the  lower  line  was,  in  one  sense,  in 
terminable,  for  the  forest  stretched  south  and  west  to  an 
indefinite  distance ;  but  there  were  streams  running  into  the 
main  river,  some  of  which,  within  a  few  miles,  were  broad 
and  deep  enough  to  prevent  the  child's  crossing. 

The  upper  wing  swept  the  whole  ground  in  their  line  of 
march  before  dark ;  they  reached  the  main  road,  Avhich,  if  the 
fugitive  had  found,  she  would  have  kept,  and  it  soon  led  to 
houses  in  either  direction.  They,  therefore,  turned  to  aid  the 
down-river  wing,  on  the  extremity  of  which  they  formed 
themselves,  so  as  to  extend  the  line  still  further  from  the 
river.  This  arrangement  must  have  been  infallibly  success 
ful,  but  for  a  most  extraordinary  cause  of  failure ;  for  they 
were  now  sweeping  all  the  ground  remaining  unexplored 
which  she  could  possibly  pass.  » 

While  thus  moving  onward  in  regular  order,  and  exploring 
every  foot  of  the  way,  and  in  perfect  silence,  except  that  the 
word  march  was  regularly  passed  along  the  line,  the  ap 
proach  of  night  delayed  their  progress.  In  those  dark  old 
•woods,  shut  in  by  thick  branches  overhead,  and,  for  the  most 
part,  obstructed  by  thick-tangled  growth  beneath,  the  light 
faded  fast  with  the  declining  sun ;  but  they  had  advanced 
7 


74  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

some  throe  or  four  miles  from  their  last  point  of  starting,  and 
had  swept  nearly  all  the  ground  where  the  child  could  have 
strayed.  For,  but  a  mile  or  two  further  on,  their  progress 
would  be  stopped  by  a  broad,  deep,  "sluggish  stream,  known 
as  "  The  Dead  Brook,"  which  extended  back  from  the  main 
river  many  miles.  By  this  time,  also,  the  conviction  pre 
vailed  that  their  search  would  be  fruitless,  and  that  they 
should  see  the  child  no  more.  She  had  probably  made  her 
way  to  the  river  and  fallen  from  its  high  banks,  to  be  swept 
away  by  its  current;  or,  still  more  dreadful  to  be  imagined, 
had  been  carried  off  by  some  wild  beast.  Bears  and  wolves, 
as  well  as  more  harmless  animals,  frequented  these  woods ; 
and  though  the  wolves,  retreating  to  the  mountains,  were 
seldom  seen  here  except  in  winter,  yet  the  bears  were  said  to 
be  numerous.  They  were  not  considered  fierce  and  danger 
ous  at  this  season  of  the  year,  when  berries  and  other  sweet 
vegetables  were  plenty,  but  yet  would,  perhaps,  destroy  a 
child. 

However,  though  with  little  hope,  the  party  still  proceeded 
to  explore  the  remaining  ground ;  but,  when  they  came  to  the 
Dead  Brook  without  finding  any  further  trace  of  the  object 
of  their  search,  all  the  company  seemed  to  yield  to  the  con 
viction  that  their  duty  was  done.  Most  of  them,  indeed,  were 
exhausted  from  fatigue  and  want  of  accustomed  food  and  rest ; 
for  they  had  not  ceased  a  moment  in  their  effort  since  called 
from  their  beds  long  before  morning,  and  had  taken  no  re 
freshment  except  such  as  could  be  passed  from  hand  to  hand 
along  the  line.  It  was  now  late  and  very  dark,  and  there 
were  evident  signs  of  rain.  The  whole  company  gradually 
gathered  toward  the  left  extremity  of  the  line,  at  the  con 
fluence  of  the  Dead  Brook  with  the  main  river.  They  had 


WOLFSDEN.  75 

all,  in  passing  down  the  Dead  Brook,  explored  it  thoroughly, 
and  all  agreed  that  there  was  no  point  where  the  child  could 
possibly  have  crossed  it.  It  was  broad,  deep,  and  impassable, 
for  many  miles  back.  Much  was  said  about  a  place  called 
Beaver  Dam,  about  two  miles  up  the  stream  ;  but  several  men 
of  reliable  judgment  had  examined  this,  the  only  supposed 
place  of  crossing,  and  had  found  it,  beyond  all  question,  im 
possible  to  be  passed  by  a  child.  Hope  had  deserted  every 
heart,  and  the  colonel,  with  pale  and  haggard  features,  worn 
with  fatigue  and  anxiety,  and  with  a  trembling  voice,  thanked 
them  for  their  kindness,  and  dismissed  them  to  their  homes. 

It  was  now  near  midnight,  very  dark,  and  beginning  to 
rain.  They  had  long  before  provided  themselves  with  torches 
to  pursue  their  search  ;  and,  as  the  large  company  departed 
and  separated  themselves  into  different  groups,  extending  for 
miles  in  different  directions,  the  woods  seemed  as  if  illumi 
nated  by  a  vast  army.  But  all  did  not  depart.  The  colonel 
and  his  sons,  Deacon  Arbor  and  Alek,  Job  Brown  and 
Josiah,  with  about  twenty  others,  remained  on  the  ground, 
some  with  a  vague  impression  that  something  might  yet  be 
done;  besides,  some  were  too  much  exhausted  to  return  without 
refreshment  and  rest.  A  large  fire  was  kindled,  and  food, 
which  had  been  forwarded  from  the  contributions  of  many 
houses  during  the  day,  was  brought ;  boughs  and  leaves 
were  collected,  old  garments  spread  down,  and  the  colonel 
and  deacon,  with  a  few  others,  were  persuaded  to  lie  down  and 
rest. 

But  Alek,  though  he  had  been  one  of  the  most  active  dur 
ing  the  day,  and  had  been  searching  the  woods  the  wholo 
night  before,  showed  no  signs  of  fatigue.  After  brief  refresh 
ment,  and  seeing  his  father  and  the  colonel  as  comfortably 


76  WOLFSDEN. 

disposed  of  as  circumstances  would  permit,  he  declared  his 
determination  of  examining  the  beaver-dam  himself.  This,  as 
has  been  mentioned,  was  two  miles  up  the  Dead  Brook.  Some 
ten  or  twelve  volunteered  to  accompany  him,  and,  preparing 
their  torches,  they  departed. 

It  now  began  to  rain  fast,  but  their  pitch-wood  torches 
flamed  brightly,  and  they  moved  swiftly.  In  half  an  hour 
they  were  at  the  beaver-dam.  The  first  glance  gave  no  en 
couragement.  The  old  dam  consisted  of  a  mass  of  decayed 
wood  sunk  in  the  stream,  and  on  the  further  side  reaching  to 
the  surface  of  the  water,  forming  an  eddy  above,  covered 
with  floating  sticks  and  leaves ;  the  dam,  which  was  evi 
dently  the  work  of  beavers  some  years  since,  was  decayed 
and  washed  away  on  the  hither  side,  leaving  a  space  of 
clear,  deep  water,  of  six  or  eight  feet  breadth,  between 
the  dam  and  the  shore,  so  that  the  stream  was  clearly  im 
passable. 

But  the  searching  eyes  of  Alek  noticed  that  from  the 
hither  end  of  the  dam  a  loose  and  rotten  log  of  wood  swung 
down  stream,  and  vibrated  in  the  slow  current,  its  upper 
end  still  attached  to  the  end  of  the  dam.  It  appeared,  from 
the  lightness  with  which  it  floated,  that  it  could  not  have 
been  in  the  water  long.  Measuring  it  with  his  eye,  he 
judged  that  it  would  «.bout  span  the  space  between  the  shore 
and  the  dam.  The  thought  flashed  in  his  mind  that  such 
had  been  its  position  till  very  lately,  and  that  some  slight 
cause  had  displaced  it,  and  caused  it  to  float  to  its  present 
position.  That  slight  cause  might  be  the  foot  of  little  Amy. 
If  so,  she  might  have  crossed,  or,  more  likely,  might  be  sleep 
ing  in  the  dark  waters  beneath  them. 

This  last  supposition  seemed  most  likely,  when  Alek's  dog 


WOLFSDEN.  77 

Lion,  who  had  been  the  active  companion  of  his  master  in  al 
ine  search,  now,  after  rapidly  snuffing  the  ground  near  where 
the  loose  end  of  the  log  might  have  been  attached,  and  put 
ting  his  fore-paws  into  the  stream,  as  if  to  search  it,  uttered 
a  long  and  melancholy  howl.  Alek  was  then  convinced  that 
Amy  had  been  there.  She  was  probably  there  now,  or  had 
been  carried  a  little  distance  down  the  slow  stream.  But 
she  might  possibly  have  gained  the  other  side,  and  be  still 
living.  He  determined  to  seek  the  living  child  before  search 
ing  the  water  for  the  dead. 

The  water  was  deep,  but  Alek  could  swim.  His  clothes 
were  already  wet  with  rain,  and  therefore  he  did  not  take 
them  off.  In  a  minute  he  was  on  the  other  side,  and  Lion, 
who  could  swim  as  well  as  his  master,  was  there  too.  After 
a  moment's  snuffing,  Lion  sprang  about,  wild  with  excitement. 
He  had  evidently  made  a  discovery.  He  would  run  a  fcw 
steps  into  the  bushes,  dart  back,  take  a  circuit,  and  make  off 
again,  and  then  return  and  look  wistfully  at  his  master,  as  if 
anxious  that  he  should  accompany  him.  Alek  shouted  for 
the  others  to  come  over ;  a  stick  was  found  strong  enough  to 
bridge  the  chasm,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  whole  party  were 
exploring  the  other  shore  with  their  torches. 

Lion  led  his  master,  in  a  line  diverging  from  the  stream, 
downward  toward  the  main  river.  Some  of  the  party  fol 
lowed  ;  others  beat  the  ground  in  various  directions.  Lion 
kept  on  in  a  circuitous  course,  but  far  ahead,  occasionally 
with  a  low  bark,  as  if  to  give  his  master  indication  of  his 
course.  Alek  hurried  on  in  the  direction  of  the  sound. 
After  some  fifteen  minutes,  the  loud,  sharp  bark  of  the  dog 
followed  by  a  long-protracted  howl,  gave  Alek  notice  that 
7* 


78  w  o  L  r  s  D  E  N  . 

Lion  had  found  the  object  of  his  pursuit ;  and  that  it  was 
probably  the  child  —  dead  ! 

With  palpitating  heart  and  wild  haste,  he  hurried  on.  A 
thick  growth  of  low  bushes  opposed  his  progress,  but  he 
rushed  resistlessly  on,  holding  aloft  his  torch.  In  a  few 
minutes  his  excited  apprehensions  were  ended.  There  was 
Lion  ;  a  slender,  white  object  lay  upon  the  ground  before  him, 
which  he  was  eagerly  licking,  all  the  time  uttering  a  low. 
whimpering  cry.  Alek  threw  down  the  torch,  and,  carefully 
taking  up  the  insensible  child,  pressed  her  to  his  breast.  He 
thought  she  was  dead  ;  but  she  was  not  quite  cold.  He  put 
his  ear  to  her  side ;  he  could  perceive  the  beating  of  her 
heart. 

"  FOUND  !  FOUND  !  "  he  cried,  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

"  FOUND  !  FOUND  !  "  was  shouted  by  the  companions  of  his 
search,  scattered  in  various  directions,  and  some  of  them  not 
far  off. 

"  FOUND  !  FOUND  !  "  reechoed  the  woods  far  and  wide,  to 
the  loudest  of  human  voices. 

They  were  nearer  the  party  which  they  had  left  an  hour 
ago  than  when  they  crossed  the  stream  ;  but  they  must  still 
be  more  than  a  mile  off.  Yet  soon  from  the  far  distance 
they  heard  the  combined  shout  of  many  voices,  "  Found  ! 
found ! " 

"  Found  !  found .' "  was  again  replied  by  Alek's  party,  who 
were  now  fast  hurrying  toward  him. 

"  FOUND  !  FOUND  !  "  reechoed  the  woods  far  and  wide. 

In  a  few  moments,  the  deep  sound  from  the  distance  was 
again  heard.  It  was  the  tone  -of  inquiry,  " ALIVE?  — 
ALIVE?" 

"  ALIVE  !  ALIVE  !  "  shouted  Alek. 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  .  79 

"  ALIVE  !  ALIVE  !  "  shouted  his  approaching  companion;;. 

"  ALIVE  !  ALIVE  !  "  reechoed  the  woods  far  and  wide. 

"  March  !  march  !  "  was  again  heard  from  the  deep  dis 
tance.  It  was  a  signal  that  the  distant  party  were  coming. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  excitement  of  the  party  left 
behind,  when  roused  by  the  shout,  Found  !  found  !  To  cross 
the  Dead  Brook,  and  hasten  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  was 
the  irresistible  impulse.  Luckily  there  were  plenty  of  light 
logs,  branches,  and  drift-wood,  along  the  banks,  from  which  a 
rude  raft  was  iu  a  few  minutes  constructed,  and,  three  or  four 
at  a  time,  they  were  quickly  on  the  other  side  of  the  stream. 
"  MARCH  !  MARCH  !  "  was  again  shouted,  and  answered,  at 
intervals,  to  direct  their  course. 

In  the  mean  time,  Alek's  companions  had  gathered  brush 
wood,  and  other  combustibles,  and  kindled  a  great  fire.  Lit 
tle  Amy,  closely  embraced  by  Alek,  felt  its  reviving  warmth, 
and  her  little  limbs  shivered.  Alek  chafed  her  ftody  ;  others 
heated  portions  of  their  dripping  garments,  and  successively 
wrapped  them  around  her  feet ;  others,  making  their  hands 
hot  by  the  fire,  pressed  hers  between  them.  Lion,  eager  to 
assert  his  claims,  pressed  his  nose  to  her  wet  garments  ;  and 
soon  all  had  the  satisfaction  of  hearing  the  indistinct  murmur 
of  her  voice. 

"  Amy,  dear  Amy  !  "  said  Alek,  in  her  ear ;  for  Alek  still 
held  her,  as  having  the  first  right,  although  her  brothers  stood 
around. 

"  Father  .'  "  whispered  the  unconscious  child.  She  thought 
it  was  her  father's  voice. 

"  Dear  daughter  !  "  replied  Alek,  with  tears  in  his  eyes. 
He  has  always  called  her  "  dear  daughter,"  since. 

Words  cannot  describe  the  agony  of  joy  shown  by  the 


80  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

father,  when  he  again  beheld  his  child.  With  streaming 
eyes  and  lifted  hands,  he  uttered  thanksgivings  to  God.  He 
had  never  before  been  known  to  utter  words  of  devotion  in 
presence  of  others,  though  believed  to  pray  habitually  in 
secret.  But  now  what  to  him  though  a  thousand  stood 
around  ?  He  saw  only  his  child  ;  and  he  felt  that  a  present 
God  had  restored  her.  Never  before  or  since  has  the  inspira 
tion  of  fervent  piety  struck  me  as  on  this  occasion.  From 
this  I  could  imagine  how  David  looked,  when  he  cried,  "  O, 
Absalom  !  my  son,  my  son  !  "  But  his  was  the  inspiration 
of  grief.  This  was  the  inspiration  of  gratitude  and  joy. 

We  have  purposely  omitted  to  speak  of  the  agony  of  terror 
and  suspense  which  agitated  the  anguished  mother  and  dis 
tracted  sisters,  during  all  this  dreadful  interval.  We  shall 
not  attempt  to  describe  their  joy  in  the  restoration  of  the 
lost  one.  With  what  deep  feeling  the  mother  thanked  Alek, 
when  the  whole  story  was  told  her ;  and  how  the  daughters 
overwhelmed  and  embarrassed  him  with  their  gratitude.  Is 
it  a  wonder  that  Amy  loves  Alek,  and  calls  him  dear  uncle, 
and  that  he  calls  her  his  dear  daughter? 

The  town  was  soon  made  aware  of  the  good  news.  The 
next  Sunday,  Parson  Boreman  improved  the  occasion  with  a 
most  eloquent  sermon.  Everybody  thought  it  eloquent,  and 
a  committee  was  appointed  to  solicit  a  copy  for  the  press. 
It  was  given,  and  an  enormous  edition  of  five  hundred  copies 
printed,  from  which  every  family  in  town,  and  many  else 
where,  were  supplied.  The  colonel  reads  the  sermon  annu 
ally,  every  Thanksgiving  Day,  with  tears.  I  have  looked  it 
over  lately  to  make  some  extracts  with  which  to  close  this 
chapter ;  but  find  nothing  particularly  appropriate,  and  rather 
suspect  that  its  chief  merit  at  the  time  was,  that  it  touched 
a  subject  in  which  his  congregation  were  interested. 


CHAPTER    VI. 


THE  storm  has  passed.  The  bright  sun  looks  from  behind 
his  cloudy  curtains  to  behold  mother  earth  decked  like  a 
bride  in  her  drapery  of  flowery  white,  to  welcome  the  new 
approaching  year.  How  virgin  fair  and  pure  she  looks  !  Her 

• 

ample  robe  spreads  its  undulations  far  as  the  eye  can  reach. 
The  woody  hills  are  rounded  and  softened  in  their  outlines 
by  the  superincumbent  snow,  spread  as  a  veil  of  white  over 
their  bending  tops.  Yet  less  lovely  now  is  the  earth  in  her 
splendor  than  she  shall  soon  appear  when  night  shall  display 
her  softer  charms,  and  the  silver  moon,  and  the  sparkling 
stars,  and  the  deep-blue  sky,  shall  spread  their  glorious  can 
opy  over  her  head. 

Let  us  now  go  back  to  Deacon  Arbor's.  Alek  has  returned, 
and  has  brought  good  news  ;  not  unexpected,  and  not  unpre 
pared  for.  Two  sleigh-loads  of  company  are  coming ;  —  Uncle 
Jotham  driving  Aunt  Nabby  in  one  sleigh,  and  a  young 
dandy  driving  a -rustic  schoolmaster  in  the  other.  Helen 
turned  her  head  a  little  the  other  way,  at  this  last  intelli 
gence  ;  and  Frances  asked,  archly,  whom  the  young  dandy 
had  come  for, — just  as  if  she  already  knew  the  schoolmaster's 
intentions. 

"  Not  you,  sister,"  said  Alek. 


82  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

"  0,  no  ;  the  schoolmaster  's  after  me  and  Helen,"  replied 
she,  just  as  if  that  were  to  be  a  triple  affair. 

They  had  stopped  a  little  while  at  the  village,  at  Captain 
Boynton's.  Captain  Boynton  was  the  rich  old  revolutionary 
soldier  at  the  village,  and  the  young  dandy  was  his  grand- 
nephew.  The  young  dandy's  name  was  Harry  Boyuton. 
His  father  was  a  planter  in  North  Carolina,  and  his  uncle,  a 
merchant  in  New  York,  and  his  aunt  was  no  other  than  Aunt 
Nabby ;  but  she  was  a  maternal  aunt,  not  a  Boynton. 

Harry  was  a  Harvard  University  student,  and  proficient  in 
the  sciences  and  accomplishments  often  very  successfully  pur 
sued  there.  He  was  not  one  of  those  few  unexceptionable 
and  indefatigable  young  men,  who,  late  and  early,  pore  over 
crabbed  characters  in  dusty  tomes,  and  from  the  commence 
ment  of  a  term  to  its  close  keep  the  college  honors  full  in 
view.  His  mathematical  pursuits  were  more  practical  than 
theoretical ;  and  he  described  his  curves  and  angles  upon  a 
billiard-table,  with  the  white  and  red  balls,  aided  by  the  dex 
trous  use  of  the  cue,  which  he  substituted  for  the  more  com 
plex  instruments  of  his  shagreen  case.  Of  all  the  great  per 
sonages  of  history,  he  most  fancied  the  four  popular  kings 
and  queens  whose  portraits  so  often  draw  admiring  connois 
seurs  about  the  card-table.  Iti  the  diplomacy  of  shuffling  he 
was  an  adept,  but  his  practice  involved  rather  an  unprofita 
ble  familiarity  with  the  knaves.  In  astronomical  studies,  he 
by  no  means  neglected  the  theatrical  "  stars."  The  bowling- 
alley  balls  demonstrated  the  movements  of  the  spheres ;  and 
he  explored  through  opera-glasses  the  constellations  which 
sparkled  in  the  deep  concave  of  the  dress-circles.  Botany 
often  solaced  his  leisure,  with  tobacco-leaves  rolled  in  the 
form  of  cigars.  The  wine-merchant's  bills  were  regarded  by 


W  0  L  F  S  I>  E  N  .  So 

him  as  free  translations  of  Anacreon,  though  not  always  hap 
pily  rendered.  His  opinion  was  always  authoritative  in 
questions  of  port,  madeira,  and  champagne.  But  these  laud 
able  and  brilliant  attainments,  indicating  the  fastest  improve 
ment  of  his  time,  so  far  from  winning  the  approbation,  only 
excited  the  jealousy,  of  the  grave  and  reverend  professors  of 
dull,  dry,  collegiate  study ;  which  was  carried  so  far,  that,  at 
an  official  meeting  of  the  faculty,  they  voted  him  a  polite 
but  somewhat  peremptory  permission  to  recruit  his  mental 
health,  and  renovate  his  moral  habits,  by  a  temporary  rusti 
cation. 

By  this  kind  consideration  of  the  college  faculty,  and  at 
the  suggestion  of  his  uncle  in  New  York,  he  improved  the 
period  of  his  rustication  by  making  a  visit  to  his  aunt  in 
Saco.  There  he  made  himself  generally  agreeable,  as  indeed 
he  did  everywhere  ;  for  he  had  natural  good  qualities,  which 
dissipation  had  not  wholly  eradicated.  When  the  visit  to 
Wolfsden  was  spoken  of,  he  proposed  to  be  one  of  the  party  ; 
and  his  Aunt  Nabby,  who  had  received  a  confidential  letter 
from  his  uncle,  commending  his  health  and  habits  to  her  own 
and  Uncle  Lemuel's  especial  watchfulness,  approved  the  pro 
position. 

At  Wolfsden  village,  Harry  must  needs  pay  his  first  re 
spects  to  his  grand-uncle.  Aunt  Nabby,  who  considered  that 
her  duty  of  watchfulness  could  be  best  performed  by  keeping 
him  in  sight,  concluded  to  call  and  pay  her  respects,  too  ; 
particularly  as  the  horses  really  needed  breath,  for  they  had 
travelled  fast,  notwithstanding  the  snow.  Harry  had  driven, 
though  not  so  fast  as  he  would  have  done  but  for  Hezekiah's 
mild  remonstrance. 


84  WOLFSDEN. 

"  If  I  have  a  genius  for  anything,  it  is  for  driving,"  said 
Harry. 

Though  Harry  made  no  pretensions  to  superior  talents  in  a 
general  way,  he  had  a  habit  of  claiming  a  peculiar  "  genius  " 
for  whatever  business  happened  to  be  in  hand ;  so  that  his 
piecemeal  pretensions,  if  added  up,  would  have  excelled  those 
of  the  Admirable  Crichton  himself. 

Captain  Boynton  was  a  gentleman.  He  was  the  only  gen 
tleman  by  profession  in  Wolfsden.  There  were  other  gentle 
manly  men,  but  no  others  who  made  that  business  their 
exclusive  pursuit. 

He  was  an  old  gentleman,  and  a  gentleman  of  the  old 
school,  and  of  the  old  habits  of  the  old  school.  He  gave 
them  all  a  warm  welcome,  and  brought  out  his  decanter  of 
old  Jamaica,  to  give  them  warm  toddy.  Aunt  Nabby  de 
clined  the  toddy,  as  did  the  others.  Perhaps  Harry  might 
not  have  declined,  but  for  the  others'  presence  ;  but  he  had 
too  much  grace  to  violate  their  example  while  he  was  their 
guest.  "  My  genius  lies  in  the  cold-water  line,"  said 
Harry. 

Captain  Boynton  chose  to  maintain  the  ceremonies  of  the 
old  school,  notwithstanding  the  degeneracy  of  these  cold-water 
days ;  and  so  he  drank  the  toddy  to  their  health,  and  ordered 
cake  and  tea  for  their  better  refreshment,  and  proceeded  to  fight 
the  battle  of  Trenton  for  their  edification.  Captain  Boynton, 
it  was  evident,  had  done  important  service  at  Trenton,  though 
Weems,  in  his  "  Life  of  Washington,"  had  neglected  to  record 
it.  He  then  proceeded  to  Princeton,  and,  after  the  fall  of 
General  Mercer,  rallied  the  retreating  regiment,  and  won  the 
battle,  —  a  circumstance  also  forgotten  by  Weeins.  The  cap 
tain  was  indefatigable,  and,  going  backwards  in  the  generally- 


WOLFSDEN.  85 

received  order  of  events,  he  proposed  the  storming  of  Ticon- 
deroga  and  Crown  Point;  but  his  auditors  were  now  tired 
of  battles,  their  horses  were  rested,  and  they  took  their 
leave,  Harry  promising  soon  to  rejoin  his  uncle  for  another 
campaign. 

Hezekiah  permitted  Harry  to  drive  as  fast  as  he  chose, 
the  rest  of  the  way.  He  had -become  impatient  of  the  cap 
tain's  achievements.  He  had  no  taste  for  war ;  his  incli 
nations  drew  strongly  in  another  direction.  But  Harry 
drove  provokingly  slow. 

"  A  merciful  man  is  merciful  to  his  beast,"  said  Harry. 
"  Slow  and  sure,  wins  the  race." 

But  the  distance  was  short,  and  soon  they  arrived  at  Dea 
con  Arbor's,  and  met  a  hearty  welcome.  Harry,  though  a 
stranger,  was  equally  welcome  for  the  other's  sake,  and  he 
soon  made  himself  welcome  for  his  own. 

It  had  been  arranged  to  invite  a  few  additional  friends,  — 
in  short,  to  have  a  "  party,"  as  much  as  might  be  allowable, 
without  scandal,  on  a  Saturday  evening.  Margaret  Murray 
was  already  there,  in  pursuance  of  previous  understanding. 
She  rode  over  on  one  of  the  ox-sleds,  which  came  from  that 
direction,  to  break  out  the  roads.  The  Bowler  boys  and  girls, 
including  Amy  and  the  adjutant,  came  after  dark.  Josiah 
Brown  was  with  them,  and  looked  very  well  pleased.  Helen, 
glancing  at  him,  whispered  the  fact  to  Ann ;  and  she  replied 
that  they  were  all  happy  on  her  account,  glancing  at  Hezekiah. 
Very  well  turned  off,  Miss  Ann  ! 

.  We  were  all  very  happy,  and  Helen  appeared  as  tranquil 
and  as  easy  as  if  it  were  the  most  natural  thing  to  have  a 
lover.  —  She,  who  had  no  experience  in  that  way,  and  whom, 
8 


86  WOLFSDEN. 

for  her  dd-maidish  ways,  everybody  had  marked  down  as  a 
predestined  old  maid,  though  yet  but  twenty-five  ! 

Hezekiah,  too,  was  evidently  happy  ;  —  staid  and  quiet  in 
his  happiness,  yet  luminously  happy.  I  mean  that  the  light 
of  his  happiness  shone  through  his  eyes, and  features. 

We  were  all  glad  to  be  there,  and  glad  to  see  each  other 
there.  The  great  kitchen  fireplace  glowed  with  the  lasting 
heat  of  solid  maple  logs.  The  sitting-room  and  parlor  were 
illuminated  with  brighter  fires.  Their  polished  hearths  and 
painted  floors  reflected  the  ruddy  blaze.  How  fresh,  and 
nice,  and  new,  seemed  the  furniture,  in  its  maturity  of 
forty  years  !  Years  had  ever  fallen  softly  upon  all  that 
house. 

Besides  the  company  enumerated,  there  is  one  more  to  be 
mentioned;  the  new  schoolmaster,  —  not  a  very  new  man, 
though,  for  he  is  forty-five,  at  least ;  but  he  is  new  to  us,  for 
this  is  his  first  winter  in  Wolfsden.  A  quiet,  unobtrusive, 
silent  sort  of  a  man-  he  seems ;  but  we  will  not  overlook  him, 
for  he  is  still  a  great  man  even  here,  and  at  the  school-house 
greater  still,  —  the  monarch  of  all  he  surveys,  but  a  very  good, 
just,  and  benignant  monarch. 

There  is  a  saying,  that  there  is  a  skeleton  in  every  house ; 
meaning  that,  however  fair  external  signs  may  be,  yet  some 
open  or  secret  trouble  lurks  everywhere.  But  surely  there 
is  no  skeleton  here.  No  ;  there  is  none.  But  look  ! 

What  spectre  is  that  emerging  from  the  corner  bedroom  ? 
It  is  a  skeleton  !  The  face  grins  with  a  leer  of  sepulchral 
satisfaction,  beneath  a  double  row  of  crisp,  short  curls  of 
false  hair,  surmounted  by  a  crisp,  crimped,  double-bordered 
cap,  surmounted  higher  still  by  bunches  of  gaudy  ribbons, 
overtopped  in  their  turn  by  a  short,  waving  feather.  Is  it 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  NT  .  87 

the  skeleton  of  some  squaw,  decked  for  her  wedding,  and  seek 
ing  for  her  lost  "  brave  "  ? 

Around  her  yellow  neck  is  a  crisp,  crimped  double-ruff,  dis 
posed  so  as  to  show  a  row  of  yellow  gold  beads  just  above  it, 
and  a  golden  chain,  attached  to  a  yellow  shining  ring,  attached 
to  some  yellow  shining  trinkets,  just  below  it. 

Below  her  tight  waist  spread  far  and  wide  the  rustling  folds 
of  her  silken  dress.  She  moves  forward  with  a  bobbing  curt 
sey.  It  is  !  0,  goodness  !  it  is ! 

Let  us  turn  around  and  walk  into  the  sitting-room.  There 
is  no  skeleton  there.  There  are  bright,  welcome  faces,  instead. 
Margaret  Murray,  hazel-eyed,  dark-haired,  fair-browed,  cherry- 
lipped  creature  of  self-conscious  beauty,  let  me  introduce  the 
impatient  reader  to  a  nearer  view  of  your  charms.  Ah,  how 
prepared  are  those  sparkling  eyes  for  the  compliment,  and  how 
prompt  that  musical  tongue  in  appropriate  reply  !  Will  you 
address  her  a  few  words,  no  matter  how  commonplace  ?  —  in 
a  few  moments  you  will  be  delighted  at  your  newly-discovered 
powers  of  conversation.  Though  cold  and  dull  as  the  black 
steel  of  the  tinder-box,  if  there  be  fire  in  you,  she  will  strike 
it  out.  But  you  must  not  engross  her ;  Alek  is  near,  and 
envies  your  happy  chance.  Another  stands  at  little  distance, 
and  looks  on  admiringly.  Can  it  be  that  he  envies,  too  ?  0, 
no  !  it  is  the  light-hearted,  thoughtless  Harry  Boynton.  He 
is  evidently  surprised  to  see  so  much  beauty,  grace,  and  vivac 
ity,  in  a  place  so  remote  from  city  life.  But  he  is  too  familiar 
with  the  attractions  of  polished  society  to  be  very  deeply  im 
pressed  with  the  graces  of  a  country  maiden,  even  if  capable 
of  deep  impressions  at  all ;  and  yet  he  looks  more  earnest  and 
thoughtful  than  is  his  wont.  Is  it  possible  that  he  has  a  heart, 
and  is  just  finding  it  out  ? 


88  VT  0  L  F  S  D  K  N  . 

And  now  let  me  introduce  you  to .  But  look !  the 

skeleton  of  millinery  is  in  the  doorway,  advancing  with  a  bob 
bing  curtsey.  Let  us  retreat  into  the  kitchen. 

Ah,  genial  sight !  With  what  ample  and  tempting  cheer 
that  long-extended  damask-covered  table  is  spread  —  food  for 
fifty,  and  we  are  but  a  score.  The  big  turkey  is  there ;  he 
justly  claims  his  honored  place  at  the  feast  —  such  was 
his  destiny.  For  this  he  lived,  for  this  he  was  worthy  to 
die.  The  brown,  savory  spare-rib  is  there.  For  this  the  re 
luctant  sovereign  of  the  sty  yielded  his  life.  In  yon  deep, 
broad  pasty  lies  a  flock  of  imprisoned  chickens,  waiting,  as 
once  in  their  parent  egg  they  waited,  to  burst  their  brittle 
covering.  And  on  yonder  dressers  see  what  puddings  and 
pies,  and  wonderful  works  of  pastry,  stand  ready.  But  we 
will  not  tire  the  reader  with  details  of  what  his  appetite  may 
desire,  but  which,  perchance,  his  fate  may  deny.  But  look  ! 
Ah,  look  the  other  way  !  The  skeleton  approaches,  glittering 
in  millinery,  rustling  in  silks,  and  bobbing  her  curtseys.  Let 
us  turn  and  face  the  spectre.  Mrs.  Simperkins  !  Your  old 
acquaintance,  Mrs.  Simperkins. 

How  came  she  here  ?  How,  indeed  !  How  came  she 
everywhere?  How  came  the  maggot  in  the  cheese?  How 
came  sin  into  the  world  ?  How  came  it  that  each  pleasure 
has  its  poison  too,  and  every  sweet  a  sour  ?  Let  us  turn  to 
pleasanter  themes  —  to  any  other  theme. 

In  yon  obscure  corner  sits  the  schoolmaster.  He  is  talking 
with  Ike.  Ike  is  interested  in  his  communication.  We  cannot 
hear  what  he  says,  but  Ike  answers  aloud,  "  He  shall  be  en 
couraged  !  The  rest  have  gone  to  destruction,  but  we  '11  save 
him  if  it  can  be  done."  They  are  speaking  of  Ax  Barker. 

The  schoolmaster  has  been  here  only  a  week.     He  was  sent 


TVOLFSDEN.  89 

for  from  a  distance,  to  keep  our  school  this  winter,  for  his 
fame  as  a  successful  teacher  had  reached  us.  Well  does  he 
seem  likely  to  justify  it.  He  has  already  engaged  the  interest 
of  every  pupil ;  all  respect  him,  and  try  to  do  their  best. 

He  "  boards  round."  The  school-money  would  last  but  two 
months  if  the  master's  board  were  paid  from  it.  To  make  it 
three  months,  a  dozen  families  of  the  district  volunteer  to 
board  the  master  each  a  week  or  more.  This  has  been  the 
week  at  the  deacon's  house,  and  he  has  proved  an  agreeable 
guest.  They  invite  and  persuade  him  to  stay  another  week, 
thinking  that  Hezekiah,  also  a  schoolmaster,  may  be  the  bet 
ter  entertained,  —  just  as  if  Hezekiah  cared  about  any  enter 
tainment  but  Helen ! 

Supper  is  ready  ;  but  let  us  skip  the  supper,  since  we  can 
not  partake  of  it.  Aunt  Jane  Bowler  says  it  does  her  as 
much  good  to  see  others  eat  as  to  eat  herself.  Others  may 
not  have  that  "  genius,"  as  Harry  says. 

Supper  ended,  the  plays  begin.  The  old  folks  and  grave 
folks  appropriate  the  parlor,  leaving,  the  sitting-room  and 
kitchen  for  the  young  folks  and  gay  folks.  In  the  parlor  are 
the  deacon  and  his  wife,  the  schoolmaster  and  Hezekiah,  and 
also  Helen.  In  sitting-room  and  kitchen  are  distributed  the 
others.  Mrs.  Simperkins  wavers  between  parlor  and  sitting- 
room,  as  if  uncertain  of  her  position ;  till,  urged  by  the 
serious-looking  but  mischievous  Margaret,  she  settles  down  in 
the  sitting-room  with  the  young  and  gay. 

Harry  Boynton,  seeing  Margaret's  attention  to  the  old 
charmer,  took  it  for  granted  that  she  was  her  especial  favor 
ite  ;  and,  as  Margaret  seemed  coy  of  his  perhaps  too  marked 
attentions,  he  deemed  it  politic  to  patronize  the  millinery 
establishment. 

8* 


90  WOLFSDEN. 

He  thought  her,  perhaps,  an  elderly  aunt  or  grandmother  of 
Margaret,  and  made  his  addresses  accordingly.  The  Simper- 
kiiis  was  flattered.  She  had  already  found  out  that  he  was  son 
to  a  Carolina  planter,  nephew  to  a  New  York  merchant  and 
to  Aunt  Nabby,  grand-nephew  to  Capt.  Boynton,  and  student 
at  college.  She  sunoosed  him  to  be  studying  for  the  ministry, 

O  i  i  J         O  •/  ' 

and  bent  her  conversation  accordingly.  lie  inferred  that  she 
was  a  particularly  religious  lady,  and  answered  in  the  same 
strain;  for.it  is  his  genius  to  conform  to  his  company,  to  be 
all  things  to  all  men,  and  women  too  ;  besides,  it  was  now  his 
policy.  Their  conversation  was  edifying.  If  it  were  the 
major  whom  he  wished  to  win,  instead  of  his  daughter,  that 
conversation,  could  he  have  overheard  it,  would  have  done  the 
business. 

Not  that  any  pious  pretensions  were  made  on  Harry's  part ; 
he  only  gave  general  assent  to  the  merits  of  favorite  ministers 
and  doctrinal  tenets  praised  by  her,  and  declared  his  charity 
for  all  sects  (by  which  she  understood  evangelical  sects),  when 
she  deprecatingly  informed  him  that  she  belonged  to  the 
"  church  of  Hingland  "  (supposing  him  a  Congrcgationalist)  ; 
but  his  eloquent  declamations  about  the  wisdom  and  wonders 
of  Providence  confirmed  her  in  her  estimate  of  the  sacredness 
of  his  calling. 

When  she  changed  the  subject  to  college  life,  it  was  won 
derful  with  what  eloquence  and  fervor  he  expatiated  upon  the 
snares  set  there,  and  thereabouts,  for  the  unwary ;  how  ho 
condemned  the  corruptions  of  society,  and  deplored  the  vices 
to  which  the  young  are  exposed.  It  was  wonderful,  too,  that 
so  discreet  a  young  man  should  be  so  well  acquainted  with  all 
the  details  of  what  he  so  earnestly  condemned ;  for,  in  his 
zeal, — his  thoughts,  snd  his  eyes  being  mostly  elsewhere, 


WOLFSDKN.  91 

his  tongue  ran  at  random,  and  he  rattled  off  the  slang  of  the 
billiard-saloon,  the  bowling-alley,  the  gambling-table,  &c., — • 
told  how  they  gulled  the  flats,  green-horns,  pigeons,  and  out 
siders,  till  his  language  became  unintelligible  to  the  Simper- 
kins'  understanding,  though  not  the  less  gratifying  for  that. 
It  was  all  Latin  and  Greek  to  her ;  but  it  was  not  surprising 
that  a  divinity  student  should  talk  Latin  and  Greek,  and  she 
was  proud  to  be  thought  worthy  to  hear  it. 

Meantime,  Harry's  thoughts  and  eyes  were  wandering 
among  the  gay  and  lively  company.  One  bright  particular  star 
attracted  them.  It  was  a  star  of  strong  attraction.  His  soul 
newly  magnetized,  turned  and  trembled  under  its  mysterious 
power.  Harry  was  in  love  !  He  who  had  whirled  so  lightly 
through  the  mazes  of  fashion,  whom  the  bright  eyes  that  so 
often  attracted  had  never  been  able  to  subdue,  and  who  had 
come  heart-free  to  his  twentieth  year,  now  yielded  at  the  first 
summons  of  the  bright-eyed  country  maiden. 

Yet,  though' his  freedom  and  the  lightness  of  his  heart  were 
gone,  emotions  far  more  animating  thrilled  his  frame.  They 
gave  a  new  impulse  to  the  beating  of  his  heart ;  they  gave 
intensity  to  the  glance  of  his  eye,  and  new  animation  and 
expression  to  his  countenance.  He  lived  now  in  a  new  element, 
a  new  atmosphere.  It  might  be  as  illusory  as  the  atmosphere 
of  frivolity,  where  he  had  so  long  lived  ;  but  it  was  new,  and  it 
gave  him  new  life. 

As  his  eyes  still  furtively  pursued  their  object,  he  felt 
rather  than  saw  that  her  eyes  were  once  or  twice  turned  upon 
him.  "  It  is  my  destiny,"  thought  he  ;  and  thoughts  and  vis 
ions  floated  in  his  imagination,  as  thickly  and  confusedly  ds 
the  storm,  through  which  he  had  all  day  driven,  filled  the  sky 

To  him  Mrs.  Simperkins  was  a  lucky  resource.     He  had 


92  WOLFSDEN. 

poured  oceans  of  information  into  her  greedy  ears,  and  it  was 
now  his  turn  to  get  information.  He  inquired,  firstly,  about 
distant  matters  —  the  minister  of  the  parish,  especially.  (Dis 
creet  Harry  !)  Then,  cutting  short  the  too  long  account  about 
Parson  Boreman,  he  asked  about  the  schoolmaster,  —  "Was  he 
pious?  Deacon  Arbor,  —  was  he  a  friend  to  missions  ?  Mrs. 
Arbor,  —  did  she  enjoy  good  health?  These  young  gentlemen, 
—  were  they  all  her  sons?"  (Cautious  Harry!)  "These 
young  ladies,  —  were  they  all  her  daughters?"  (Sly  Harry  !) 
The  young  lady  who  just  passed,  and  who  urged  her  to  remain 
in  the  room,  —  "  Her  niece,  he  presumed."  (False  Harry  !) 

Miss  Simperkius  informed  him  upon  all  the  topics ;  indeed, 
she  was  entirely  too  prolix,  and  he  hurried  her  on  successively 
till  they  came  to  the  last,  and  then  she  told  him  too  much,  too 
much  for  his  comfort,  for  she  told  him,  in  a  long  history,  in 
cluding  the  major  and  his  family,  their  relations  to  the  church, 
&c.,  that  Margaret  was  engaged  to  Mr.  Alek  Arbor.  She 
said  it  as  quietly  as  the  engineer  lights  the  match  of  the  mine 
beneath  the  castle  of  the  beleaguered  city.  Its  effects  were  as 
fatal  —  Harry's  castle  was  blown  into  mid-air. 

When  the  insane,  unreasoning  power  of  love  takes  possession 
of  the  heart,  other  kindred,  absurd  fantasies  come  in  to  share 
the  dominion.  Honor,  that  will  not  take  advantage  of  op 
portune  circumstances  to  invade  others'  rights.  Self-respect, 
that  would  scorn  to  accept  advantages  so  won.  Conscience, 
which  forbids  the  enjoyment  of  dishonorable  success.  Sym 
pathy,  which  disturbs  the  pleasures  of  self  with  the  pain's  of 
others.  He  who  writes  for  the  present  world  must  class  all 
these,  and  kindred  sentiments,  as  fantasies.  People  of  primi 
tive  days  counted  them  realities.  To  them  these  shadows 
indicated  substance.  Our  age  has  weighed  them  in  the  bank- 


WOLFSDEN.  93 

er's  scales,  which  give  standard  weight,  and  find  they  "  won't 

pay-'; 

But  these  fantasies  were  now  ruling  sentiments  with  Harry. 
Love  had  upset  his  understanding,  and  honor  and  self-respect 
had  entered  the  breach.  He  could  not  violate,  with  treacher 
ous  designs,  the  hospitality  he  was  receiving>  He  would  not 
employ  his  superior  position  and  advantages  to  entice  away 
the  affections  already  bestowed,  or  promised,  to  another.  He 
would  not  even  accept  a  heart  which  could  be  so  enticed. 
Some  romantic  notions  of  pure,  disinterested,  undivided  love, 
confused  his  calculations. 

On  the  other  hand,  he  was  now  under  the  control  of  a 
power  he  could  not  throw  off.  He  had  never  resisted  his 
inclinations,  and  therefore  they  were  irresistible. 

But  what  should  he  do  about  it?  He  asked  this  question 
himself,  and  walked  to  a  secluded  window  to  meditate.  The 
moon  rode  among  the  fleecy  clouds  in  her  silvery  brightness. 
The  stars  sparkled  like  gems  in  the  deep-blue  firmament.  The 
distant  forest  stretched  an  obscure,  interminable  shadow.  The 
grandeur  of  nature's  solitude  soothed  the  tumult  of  his  soul. 

And  so  he  meditated.  But  his  meditations  came  to  noth 
ing,  except  a  resolve  to  be  quiet ;  "  For,"  said  he,  "  I  'm  cor 
nered."  Strange  that  he  should  be  cornered  where  room  is  so 
plenty !  He  came  back  from  the  window,  but  not  to  Miss 
Simperkins. 

The  plays  were  progressing.  Blind-man's-buff  had  already 
been  performed  in  the  kitchen,  till  all  were  panting  with  the 
excitement.  "Button,  button,  who  's  got  the  button?"  passed 
round  in  a  new  circle  formed  in  the  sitting-room.  Harry  was 
in  it.  Mrs.  Simperkins  was  a  little  astonished ;  but,  upon  the 
whole,  concluded  that  a  divinity  student  might  go  so  far,  since 


94  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

he  had  preferred  her  conversation  to  blind-man's-buff.  The 
company  would  like  for  her  to  go  further ;  but  she  would  not 
go  at  all.  There  she  sat  like  an  owl  damping  the  spirits  of 
sportive  chickens,  or,  like  the  nightmare,  spoiling  their  pulses' 
healthful  play. 

Forfeits  are  a  part  of  the  play  of  Button.  Alek  and  Ike 
were  in  it.  When  Alek  and  Ike  were  together,  something 
might  be  expected.  Ike  had  to  redeem  a  forfeit ;  he  ap 
pointed  Alek  to  judge  him.  "  Kiss  every  lady  in  the  room," 
said  Alek. 

"  Oldest  first ! "  shouted  Ike,  bounding  from  his  chair 
towards  Mrs.  Simperkins.  She  held  up  both  hands,  with 
severe  dignity,  to  repel  the  profanation.  She  had  better  sub 
mitted  in  silence.  Ike  burst  through  all  barriers  of  fists, 
elbows,  shoulders,  plumes,  ribbons,  caps,  and  curls,  hugged 
her  round  the  neck,  and  smacked,  or  pretended  to  smack,  her 
heartily.  Her  plume  was  draggled,  her  crimped  ruffles  were 
crumpled,  her  false  curls  were  displaced,  and  all  her  millinery 
deranged  ;  crippled  in  all  her  rigging,  like  some  over-matched 
privateer,  she  moved  off  to  refit,  and  the  coast  was  clear  for 
the  present.  And  all  this  before  the  divinity  student !  Poor 
Mrs.  Simperkins  ! 

One  more  forfeit  must  be  mentioned.  It  was  lost  by 
Harry.  He  was  adjudged  by  Ann.  He  must  make  a  speech 
to  Margaret,  take  her  hand,  and  give  her  a  kiss.  The  words 
"  Spirit  of  Louis,  ascend  to  heaven ! "  when  uttered  by  the  abbe 
to  the  King  of  France  upon  the  scaffold,  could  not  have  thrilled 
the  monarch  more.  The  prospect  of  heaven  is  pleasant ;  but 
timorous  mortals  stand  and  shrink,  and  fear  to  launch  away. 

Harry  had  resolved  to  be  quiet.  When  people  resolve  to 
be  quiet,  they  should  make  an  exceptional  proviso  for  vql- 


WOLFSDEN.  95 

canoes,  earthquakes,  tornadoes,  avalanches,  and  such  outside 
influences.  Harry  did  not  feel  quiet  just  now  ;  and  yet  this 
thought  was  not  new  to  him.  To  take  Margaret's  hand, 
make  a  speech,  and  give  her  a  kiss,  was  among  the  sublhnest 
of  the  fancies  that  floated  amid  the  commotions  of  his  brain, 
half  an  hour  since. 

But  there  was  no  retreat,  nor  time  to  think  about  it ;  so 
he  marched  across  the  circle,  and  took  hor  unresisting  hand. 
It  was  white  and  cold ;  the  blood  had  retreated  to  her  flut 
tering  heart.  Her  other  hand  covered  her  face.  That,  too, 
looked  pale  and  cold ;  and  so  did  her  face,  so  far  as  it  could 
be  seen.  "  Forgive  me,"  he  whispered.  This  was  an  evasion 
of  his  sentence ;  —  an  oration,  and  aloud,  was  meant.  He 
kissed  her  hand  ;  —  another  evasion  ;  her  cheek  was  meant ; 
but  it  was  permitted  to  pass. 

Margaret  removed  her  hand  from  her  face  ;  there  was  red 
ness  enough  then.  She  forced  a  cough,  that  she  might  use  a 
kerchief.  It  was  a  slight  cough,  as  if  something  could 
not  be  swallowed ;  it  compelled  her  to  turn  her  head  and 
hide  her  face,  while  the  kerchief  was  applied  to  her  eyes ; 
but  she  was  soon  composed.  The  cough  did  not  return. 

Why  should  so  many  words  be  written  about  so  slight  an 
affair?  But  who  can  tell  what  affairs  are  slight ?  Often  the 
most  seemingly  trivial  become  the  turning-points  of  our  fate, 
—  perhaps  even  of  the  fate  of  nations.  This  slight  matter, 
for  instance,  though  it  made  no  impression  upon  the  circle, 
left  an  abiding  one,  an  ineffaceable  one,  upon  three  persons 
in  it:  — Harry,  Margaret,  Alek.  Harry  saw  or  felt  that  his 
deep  passion  was  not  unperceived,  perhaps  not  unappreciated, 
by  its  object.  Margaret  had  found  a  new  era  in  her  exist 
ence,  marked  by  emotions  which  she  had  deemed  but  the  idle 


96  WOLFSDEN. 

dreams  of  romance ;  and  Alek  saw  the  foundations  of  the 
house  which  his  long-cherished  fancies  had  built,  and  where 
he  had  stored  his  choicest  hopes,  sink  in  the  faithless  sand. 
His  eyes,  sharpened  by  interest,  had  not  failed  to  see  and 
interpret  the  omens  so  fatal  to  his  hopes. 

His  heart  throbbed  with  repressed  agony.  He  rose  and 
walked  to  the  secluded  window,  and  looked  forth.  The  sil 
very  moon  still  held  her  way  among  the  fleecy  clouds.  The 
far  expanse  of  glittering  landscape  blended  with  the  sky.  The 
distant  forest  stretched  its  obscure,  interminable  shadow.  The 
grandeur  of  nature's  solitude  soothed  the  tumult  of  his  soul ;  he 
swallowed  down  the  grief  which  rose  to  choke  him ;  he  folded 
his  arms  with  mingled  resignation  and  resolution,  and  then 
unfolded  and  suffered  them  to  fall  by  his  side,  while  he  medi 
tated.  He  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  best  to  be 
quiet,  and  so  he  resolved  to  be  ;  "  For,"  said  he,  "  I  've  run 
against  a  stump."  Strange  that  he  should  run  against 
stumps,  when  they  were  so  deeply  covered  with  snow ! 
In  his  resolution  to  be  quiet,  he  made  no  exceptional 
proviso  for  earthquakes,  tornadoes,  and  avalanches.  No 
need.  Either,  or  all,  would  now  have  been  a  relief.  Sud 
denly  two  little  hands  clasped  one  of  his  great  ones.  They 
were  Amy's.  With  childish  instinct  and  childish  sympathy 
she  saw  that  he  was  troubled,  and  wished  to  comfort  him. 
He  took  her  in  his  arms ;  she  was  slender  and  light,  —  a 
small  burden  in  his  arms,  not  enough  to  counterbalance  the 
burthen  upon  his  heart ;  yet  she  seemed  to  relieve  it.  She 
put  her  little  arms  around  his  neck,  and  pressed  her  lips  to 
his  cheek,  then  to  each  of  his  eyes,  then  to  his  cheek  again. 
His  view  overlooked  the  woods  where  she  was  lost,  and  where 
he  had  rescued  her ;  and  she  thought  he  was  thinking  of  that, 


WOLFSDEN.  97 

and  of  her.  The  subject  was  so  important,  and  so  constant 
in  her  mind,  she  thought  it  equally  so  in  his.  She  failed  to 
read  aright  his  troubled  mind ;  but  her  remedy  was  not  the 
less  salutary.  He  pressed  her  to  his  breast,  returned  her 
sweet  kisses,  and  felt  relieved. 

Alek's  discomposure  had  escaped  every  eye  but  Amy's. 
He  returned  to  the  sitting-room  with  his  usual  aspect.  Mar 
garet  was  just  retiring  to  the  kitchen.  Each  appeared  per 
fectly  composed,  and  smiled  with  accustomed  greeting;  each 
sought  only  to  evade  the  other's  scrutiny. 

Margaret  went  to  the  secluded  window.  The  silvery  moon, 
the  fleecy  clouds,  the  sparkling  stars,  the  snow-clad  mountains 
and  far-reaching  forest,  still  performed  their  silent  part  in 
nature's  grand  mystery ;  and  she  repressed  the  throbbings  of 
her  heart.  She  recalled  her  maiden  pride,  and,  resolving  to 
be  quiet,  returned  to  join  the  merry  company.  Strange  that, 
of  all  that  merry  company,  the  only  unquiet  ones  were  they 
who  were  so  strongly  resolved  to  be  quiet. 

The  various  round  of  trivial  plays  successively  diverted  the 
company,  and  then  the  "Match  Stories"  began.  Some,  who 
are  unacquainted  with  the  amusements  of  Wolfsden,  and  the 
region  thereabout,  may  ask  what  "  Match  Stories"  are. 

Match  Stories  are  invented  and  told  by  the  company  in 
pairs,  in  this  manner :  One  commences  a  story,  and  proceeds 
to  the  midst  of  the  narrative  or  plot,  and  then  appoints 
another  to  finish  it.  These  stories  are  assumed  to  be  extem 
pore,  and  often  are  so ;  though  it  is  allowable  to  concert  and 
make  previous  preparation,  which  is  generally  done.  On  this 
occasion,  several  stories  were  told  in  this  manner,  which  we 
will  put  in  the  next  chapter,  as  specimens  of  the  inventive 
faculties  of  the  untrained  youth  of  Maine. 
9 


CHAPTER    VII. 


LIFE  has  two  grand  divisions  :  the  time  when  we  seize 
and  enjoy  our  own  enjoyments,  and  the  time  when  we  provide 
and  enjoy  the  enjoyments  of  others.  The  first  is  that  of  youth  ; 
the  second  is  that  of  maturity.  The  dividing  line  is  not  sharp ; 
the  divisions  blend  into  each  other,  yet  these  are  their  dis 
tinguishing  features.  Happy  are  they  who  partake  the  bene 
fits  of  the  first ;  happier  they  who  fulfil  the  duties  of  the 
last. 

Happy,  therefore,  are  Deacon  Arbor  and  his  wife,  and  all 
whose  destinies  they  influence ! 

The  whole  company,  of  old  and  young,  are  now  assembled 
to  hear  the  Match  Stories.  The  younger  take  their  first  turn. 
Perhaps  they  have  been  assisted  in  preparation  by  the  older ; 
but  most  of  the  invention,  and  all  the  credit,  is  their  own. 

Grave  people,  who  think  it  undignified  to  laugh  at  childish 
sports,  may  skip  the  whole  of  this  chapter. 

MATCH    STORIES. 

STORY  FIRST  (begun  by  Amy  the  pensive,  and  ended  by 
George  the  wag). 

(Amy.)  "  There  was  once  a  very  pretty  and  pleasant  couple 
lived  in  a  pretty  little  house,  in  a  pleasant  field,  a  little  way 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  .  99 

from  the  road.  The  man  and  wife  were  both  young ;  and  very 
neat ;  and  they  had  six  children,  all  very  pretty.  There  were 
five  girls  and  one  boy  ;  but  the  boy  was  as  good  and  pretty  as 
his  sisters.  They  were  all  about  nine  years  old,  except  one, 
and  that  was  a  baby,  —  a  very  pretty  baby,  with  curly 
hair,  and  blue  eyes,  and  a  pink  frock,  and  red  shoes,  and  a 
little  wagon  to  draw  him  out  in.  And  there  was  a  nice 
garden  on  one  side  of  the  house,  with  walks  all  through  it, 
and  all  kinds  of  flowers  by  the  walks,  and  cherry-trees,  and 
plum-trees,  and  currant-bushes,  and  gooseberries  that  were 
ripe  every  month  in  the  year  —  only  in  the  winter.  And 
there  was  a  row  of  maple-trees  each  side  of  the  lane  going 
down  to  the  road;  and  the  children  played,  and  drew  the  little 
baby  in  the  wagon,  under  the  shade  of  the  maple-trees  ;  and 
their  father  tapped  the  trees,  and  they  got  plenty  of  sweet 
sap  when  they  were  thirsty.  And  they  had  a  gentle  cow, 
that  would  not  kick,  but  gave  plenty  of  new  milk  ;  and  a  pig 
to  eat  up  the  skim-milk  ;  and  some  chickens,  and  ducks,  and 
young  turkeys  ;  but  no  geese.  And  their  mother  made  pud 
ding  and  milk,  and  sometimes  porridge,  for  supper ;  and  she 
made  plenty  of  pies  and  pancakes,  and  they  had  plenty  of 
sweet  apples  baked  to  eat  in  their  milk.  And  they  went  to 
school  every  day  but  Saturday  afternoons,  and  Sunday  they 
rode  in  a  nice  carriage  to  meeting.  And  the  schoolmistress 
was  not  cross,  but  very  good  ;  -and  they  always  carried  her 
flowers,  and  plums,  and  some  nice  cake,  and  that 's  all  I  know 
about  it.  —  0  yes !  the  girls  were  all  very  industrious  and 
studious,  and  so  their  mother  bought  them  beautiful  dolls 
that  would  roll  their  eyes.  And  George  may  tell  the  rest  of 
the  story,  but  must  not  spoil  it." 

(George.}     "  Well,  this  nice  pretty  young  couple,  after  a 


1UU  WOLFSDEN. 

while,  grew  old  and  homely  ;  and  the  five  little  girls,  all  of 
sister  Amy's  age,  grew  up,  too,  and  went  into  a  nunnery,  and 
became  nuns ;  and  the  little  baby  wore  out  his  pink  frock,  and 
lost  his  red  shoes,  and  grew  up  barefooted  to  be  a  great  boy; 
and  his  name  was  Robinson  Crusoe  ;  and  he  ran  away  and 
went  to  sea,  and  was  left  on  a  desert  island,  and  kept  goats, 
and  caught  a  savage  and  named  him  Friday  ;  and  I  have  his 
picture  and  whole  history  in  a  nice  book,  which  you  may  all 
come  over  to  our  house  and  read.  And,  as  for  the  old  folks, 
the  longer  they  lived  the  older  they  grew  ;  and  their  house 
grew  old  too,  and  they  became  poor,  for  many  thieves  infested 
that  pleasant  country,  and  stole  all  their  property,  till 
there  was  nothing  left  but  the  pig,  that  cat  all  the  skim-milk. 
And  their  cow  was  stolen  ;  and  they  had  to  kill  all  their 
chickens  and  ducks  and  pigeons,  and  sit  up  nights  to  eat 
them,  to  prevent  their  being  stolen.  And  when  these  were 
all  gone,  they  wished  they  had  some  geese  ;  but  sister  Amy 
would  not  let  them  have  geese,  because  she  is  afraid  of  the 
gander. 

"  And  so  they  began  to  be  hungry,  and  one  day  the  old  man 
said  to  his  wife,  '  We  '11  kill  the  pig  and  have  him  to  eat ;  for 
he  has  nothing  to  eat,  and  has  not  eaten  anything  for  six 
weeks.'  And  so  they  killed  the  pig,  and  pulled  off  his  wool, 
and  took  out  his  tallow,  and  hung  him  up  in  the  wood-house  to 
dry.  And  after  they  had  gone  to  bed,  the  old  woman  said  to 
the  old  man,  '  We  '11  get  up  and  put  the  pig  under  the  bed, 
lest  the  thieves  steal  him  ;  '  and  they  did  so.  And  after  they 
had  gone  to  bed  again,  they  talked  about  what  they  would  do 
with  the  pig  to-morrow ;  and  they  concluded  to  roast  his  spare- 
ribs  for  Thanksgiving,  and  salt  his  shoulders  for  pork,  and 
bake  his  head  for  Fast-day,  and  smoke  his  hams  for  bacon, 


WOLFSDEN.  101 

and  save  his  lard  to  fry  doughnuts,  and  send  his  tail  to  the 
minister  for  a  present.  And  there  were  two  thieves  came 
along,  and  listened  under  the  window,  and  found  they  had  a 
pig,  and  resolved  to  steal  him.  And  they  waited  till  the  old 
folks  were  gone  to  sleep  ;  and  they  tried  the  door,  but  it  was 
fastened  ;  and  one  said  he  would  crawl  down  chimney.  And 
he  got  on  the  house  and  crawled  down  most  to  the  fireplace, 
and  he  could  get  no  further,  for  the  chimney  was  so  narrow. 
And  the  old  man  and  woman  waked  up  and  heard  him,  and 
got  up,  and  saw  his  legs  hanging  down  in  the  fireplace,  and 
each  caught  hold  of  a  leg  and  held  him  fast.  And  then  the 
old  man  tied  the  great  brass  kettle,  which  was  full  of  pota 
toes,  to  one  leg,  and  the  old  woman  tied  the  great  iron  pot, 
which  was  full  of  turnips,  to  the  other  leg,  and  left  him 
dangling  till  morning. 

"  Then  the  old  man  went  to  the  door,  and  before  he  opened 
it,  the  thief  outside  heard  him,  and  thought  it  to  be  his 
fellow-thief,  and  asked  him  if  he  was  bringing  the  pig ;  and 
the  old  man  said,  '  No  ; '  and  that  he  must  come  in  at  the 
window  and  help  him,  for  it  was  so  heavy.  So  the  thief  went 
round  back  of  the  house  to  get  in  at  the  window ;  and  the  old 
man  told  him  to  put  up  his  feet,  and  he  would  pull  him  in  ; 
and  he  put  in  his  feet,  and  the  old  man  seized  one  foot  and 
the  old  woman  the  other,  and  shut  down  the  sash  and  held 
him  fast.  And  the  old  man  tied  the  wash-tub,  which  was  full 
of  suds,  to  one  foot,  and  the  old  woman  tied  the  churn,  which 
was  full  of  butter-milk,  to  the  other,  and  left  him  till  morn 
ing.  And  in  the  morning  they  got  the  sheriff  to  come  and 
take  them  all  to  jail ;  and  they  kept  their  pig,  and  had  plenty 
of  spare-ribs,  and  pork,  and  bacon,  and  doughnuts,  which 
Jasted  just  as  long  as  they  lived ;  and  they  sent  the  tail  to 
0* 


102  WOIFSDEN. 

the  minister,  and  it  was  put  in  the  contribution-box  for  the 
heathen.  And  this  is  the  history  of  all  three,  the  old  man, 
and  old  woman,  and  thieves,  and  little  piggy-wiggee." 

All  laughed  as  GeOrge  rattled  off  and  ended  his  rigmarole  ; 
but  Amy  said,  "That's  just  the  way  George  always  spoils 
my  stories  !  " 

The  next  story  was  begun  by  James,  and  finished  by  Fanny. 
James  loved  Fanny.  He  had  loved  her  from  childhood  ;  he 
loved  her  while  she  lived.  He  still  loves  her  ;  time  is  tran 
sitory,  but  love  is  eternal.  Fanny  loved  him,  —  it  was  the 
love  of  a  sweet  sister  for  a  kind  brother.  His  affection  was 
more  ardent.  It  was  the  idolatry  of  fond,  heart-filling,  yet 
unspoken  love.  He  was  of  a  thoughtful,  retiring  turn.  She 
was  mildness  and  goodness  personified. 

MATCH   STORY. II. 

(James.}  "  There  is  a  broad,  boundless  ocean,  which  rolls 
its  waves  upon  a  smooth  and  sandy  shore,  which  borders  the 
eastern  side  of  a  lovely  island.  The  island  is  lovely  on  that 
side  ;  in  other  parts  its  features  are  more  forbidding.  The 
waves  generally  roll  softly  there,  over  smooth,  white  sand ; 
in  other  parts,  they  beat  boisterously  against  rugged  rocks. 

"A  Genie  came  out  of  the  ocean  at  early  dawn,  and  sat 
upon  the  shore.  He  took  some  fine  sand  and  clay,  and  rolled 
them  into  figures  of  a  curious  form,  and  left  them  to  warm  in 
the  beams  of  the  rising  sun.  And  soon  the  sun  warmed  them, 
and  they  began  to  move,  for  they  received  life  from  the  sun. 
So  they  rose  up  and  walked  side  by  side  ;  and  they  seemed 
two  pleasant  children,  a  boy  and  a  girl,  and  they  loved  each 
other  as  brother  and  sister,  for  the  Genie  had  formed  them  to 
love  each  other.  The  little  maiden  was  beautiful  and  good, 


WOLFSDEN.  lUd 

and  the  boy  was  loving  and  kind.  And  they  walked  along 
the  smooth  shore,  and  the  waves  rippled  over  their  tiny 
feet,  and  they  chased  each  other,  and  chased  the  rippling 
waves. 

"  So  they  walked  along,  and  gathered  beautiful  shells  and 
corals,  and  built  gay  houses  and  mimic  gardens  upon  the 
sandy  shore ;  but  soon  the  waves  came  and  washed  them 
away;  but  they  were  not  sorry,  for  they  saw  a  fair  lawn,  with 
beautiful  flowers  upon  the  banks,  beyond  the  shore,  and  they 
ascended  and  played  upon  the  soft  turf,  and  gathered  roses 
and  lilies,  and  sweet  strawberries,  and  made  little  houses 
from  branches  of  the  bushes  which  grew  there.  And  they 
sang  sweet  songs,  and  repeated  pleasant  stories,  and  some 
times  they  sat  in  silence,  and  inquired  in  their  thoughts  how 
they  came  to  be  there,  and  if  they  were  to  live  so  happily  there 
forever. 

"  Then  the  Genie  came  up  out  of  the  sea,  and  looked  upon 
them,  and  they  wondered ;  but  they  were  not  afraid,  for  he 
looked  kindly  upon  them,  and  they  asked  him  many  questions, 
and  he  told  them  that  his  name  was  WISDOM,  and  he  would 
instruct  them  by  and  by. 

"  And  soon  the  sun  rose  higher,  and  sent  stronger  rays  of 
heat,  and  seared  the  green  turf  where  they  played,  and  dried 
the  beautiful  flowers,  and  withered  the  boughs  of  which  they 
had  builded  mimic  houses.  But  yet  they  did  not  grieve;  for 
they  saw  upon  the  side  of  the  ascending  hill  tall  trees,  which 
cast  a  pleasant  shade  and  bore  delicious  fruits,  while  lambs 
and  kids  frisked  among  the  fallen  leaves,  and  birds  flew  about. 
And  they  made  friends  of  the  kids,  and  lambs,  and  birds,  and 
aJl  they  saw,  and  were  well  pleased  with  all,  and  especially 
with  each  other ;  and  if  they  wandered  apart,  they  soon  re- 


104  WOLFSDEN. 

turned,  for  they  were  happier  together  than  when  separated, 
and  they  inquired  in  their  thoughts  whether  they  should 
always  live  together,  and  if  they  might  still  remain  in  this 
pleasant  spot,  and  call  it  their  home. 

"  And  the  Genie  came  to  instruct  them  as  he  had  promised, 
for  now  they  were  old  enough  to  learn ;  and  Fanny  may  tell 
the  words  he  said,  and  what  else  came  to  pass." 

Fanny  proceeded,  with  a  soft  and  even  voice,  slow,  but 
without  hesitation,  thus  : 

"  The  Genie  told  them  all  that  they  were  capable  of  under 
standing,  concerning  the  mystery  of  their  being  ;  —  that  their 
outward  forms  were  not  made  to  last  forever,  and  were  not 
in  reality  an  essential  part  of  their  being ;  and  that  they 
should  look  upon  their  hands,  and  heads,  and  bodies,  as  but 
sand  and  clay,  which  they  must  soon  lay  aside  for  other  and 
better  forms ;  and  that  the  spirit  within  was  alone  their  true 
and  essential  selves,  which  would  live  and  learn  forever. 

"  He  told  them,  too,  that  they  might  not  long  remain  in 
this  pleasant  spot,  for  he  had  another  and  far  more  beautiful 
home  prepared  for  them,  to  which  they  must  arrive  through 
various  ways,  some  of  which  would  be  smooth,  but  some 
would  be  rough  ;  and  then  he  pointed  out  to  them  distant 
mountains,  whose  tops  reached  above  the  clouds,  beyond 
which  he  paid  was  their  permanent  and  happy  home ;  and 
that  there  was  a  safe  though  sometimes  toilsome  path  over 
the  mountains,  through  which  all,  who  followed  his  directions, 
safely  found  their  way  to  the  happy  home  beyond. 

"  He  told  them,  too,  that  perhaps  they  must  soon  be  sepa 
rated  for  a  while,  till  they  should  arrive  at  their  journey's 
end ;  for  that  he  had  a  shorter  and  easier  passage  upon  the 
ocean,  on  which  he  convoved  those  who  were  too  weak  to 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  NT  .  105 

travel  over  the  distant  mountains ;  and  that  if  he  should  take 
the  maiden  in  that  way,  still  he  would  not  leave  the  boy  to 
pursue  his  path  alone,  but  would  send  Faith  and  Hope,  who 
were  two  loving  Genics,  to  show  him  the  way,  and  help  him. 

"  When  the  young  companions  heard  the  Genie  speak  of 
separating  them,  they  were  sad  ;  but  soon  they  reflected  that 
their  separation  would  be  transient,  but  their  union  eternal, 
and  they  considered  that  the  good  Genie,  who  had  already 
given  them  so  many  pleasant  things,  and  who  had  told  them 
so  many  true  things,  which  they  could  not  otherwise  have 
known,  would  still  do  what  was  best  for  their  happiness,  and 
they  were  comforted.  And  they  asked  him  to  make  them 
acquainted  with  Faith  and  Hope ;  and  he  summoned  them, 
and  they  came,  soaring  on  bright  wings  ;  and  they  looked  so 
pleasant,  and  uttered  such  sweet  words,  that  the  children  felt 
assured  that  in  such  society  they  could  pass  whatever  period 
of  separation  the  Genie,  whose  name  was  WISDOM,  should 
appoint." 

"  And  this,"  said  Fanny,  "  is  the  best  place  where  I  can 
end  the  story." 

A  sadness,  like  that  which  the  Genie's  children  felt  when 
he  spoke  of  their  separation,  passed  upon  the  spirit  of  James, 
for  he  associated  himself  and  Fanny  in  those  forms  of  his 
imagination. 

The  schoolmaster  was  next  requested  to  commence  a  story, 
to  which  he  assented,  premising  that,  not  being  very  imagina 
tive,  he  should  tell  them  a  true  story,  which,  however,  they 
might  finish  as  fancifully  as  they  chose  ;  and  suid  that,  as 
most  of  the  company  probably  knew  something  of  the  facts, 
he  would  suggest  that  one  of  the  gentlemen  from  abroad 
should  finish  the  story.  Hezekiah  nominated  Harry,  who 


106  WOLFS  DEN. 

assented ;   and  the  schoolmaster,  whose  story  was  from  what 
took  place  in  his  own  school  in  the  past  week,  proceeded. 

MATCH     STORY. III. 

(Schoolmaster,}  "  One  cold,  snowy  December  morning,  a 
flock  of  country  boys  and  girls  assembled  at  a  school-house, 
which  was  just  large  enough  for  the  district,  and  where  they 
had  made  a  wood-pile  just  as  large  as  the  school-house.  The 
boys  had  made  an  early  fire,  and  the  girls  had  swept  the 
room,  and  everything  was  prepared  in  expectation  of  the 
master,  whom  none  of  them  yet  had  ever  seen.  Pretty  soon 
an  oldish,  homely-looking  man  was  seen  coming,  whom,  as  he 
was  a  stranger,  they  supposed  to  be  the  master.  As  he  came 
they  saw  the  end  of  a  ruler  projecting  from  his  great-coat 
pocket,  and  then  they  knew  it  was  the  master. 

"  He  walked  in  and  took  his  place  behind  the  desk,  upon 
which  he  gave  three  loud  raps  with  his  ruler,  and  the  boys 
and  girls  took  their  places.  The  back  part  of  the  room  was 
furnished  with  writing-seats.  A  porticji  of  the  space  in  front 
had  forms,  or  benches,  for  pupils  who  did  not  write,  and 
which  were  mostly  occupied  by  the  smaller  pupils. 

"  The  pupils  and  their  books  generally  presented  as  good 
an  appearance  as  might  fairly  be  expected,  except  that  upon 
one  of  the  forms  not  furnished  with  writing-benches  sat  a 
boy  whose  appearance  was  an  exception  to  the  general  tidi 
ness  of  the  school.  He  was  larger  than  others  who  did  not 
sit  at  writing-benches  ;  was  poorly  clad,  especially  about  the 
feet;  and  had  only  a  tattered  Webster's  spelling-book,  which 
he  held  open  at  the  lesson  beginning  with  '  baker.' 

"  The  master  asked  his  name,  and,  without  looking  up,  he 
said  Ax.  The  school  tittered  ;  the  master  was  puzzled,  but 


WOLFSDEN.  107 

asked  his  other  name.  The  boy,  confused,  hesitated,  as  if 
trying  to  think,  and  then  lowly  muttered,  '  Jotham.'  The 
younger  scholars  again  tittered,  and  the  master  was  still 
more  puzzled.  Telling  the  school,  in  a  stern  voice,  to  mind 
their  lessons,  he  then  told  the  boy  to  pronounce  his  whole 
name  aloud.  After  some  consideration,  he  spoke  hesitatingly, 
as  if  not  quite  certain  about  it,  '  Jotham  Barker.'  '  What 
did  you  say  Ax  for  ?'  ''Cause  the  boys  all  call  me  Ax.' 
'  That  must  not  be  permitted.  Xo  boys  of  this  school  shall 
give  you,  or  any  of  the  pupils,  nicknames.' 

"Then,  looking  at  his  tattered  book,  the  master  asked  him 
where  was  his  lesson.  The  boy  pointed  at  '  baker.'  '  And 
have  you  no  other  books  ? '  He  had  none.  The  master 
asked  him  how  he  came  to  be  so  backward.  lie  did  n't 
know.  '  Have  you  not  always  come  to  school  with  the  other 
boys?'  '  Yes,'  he  replied.  '  Then  you  must  have  been  an  idle 
boy,'  said  the  master ;  and  the  boy,  by  his  silence,  assented. 
'  Have  you  parents  ?  '  '  Yes,'  said  the  boy.  '  And  what  do 
they  think  of  your  backwardness  ?  '  The  boy  did  n't  know, 
and  therefore  did  n't  say.  '  Suppose,'  said  the  master,  '  your 
father  should  come  in  to  see  the  school,  and  find  his  boy 
the  only  idle  and  ignorant  one,  how  do  you  think  he  would 
feel  ?  '  The  boy  appeared  more  cast  down.  The  thoughtless 
children  tittered,  for  the  idea  of  that  boy's  father,  a  miserable 
drunkard,  called,  in  derision,  Bang,  coming  to  inspect  the 
*  school,  was  altogether  too  amusing.  The  master  looked 
sternly  upon  them,  and  then  at  the  boy  more  closely.  He 
saw  that  there  was  some  mystery  in  the  matter  ;  and,  tell 
ing  the  boy  to  prepare  his  lesson,  proceeded  to  organize  the 
school. 

"  In  the  afternoon,  the  master  having  examined  the  case 


108  WOLFSDEN. 

of  the  backward  boy  more  thoroughly,  and  without  finding 
any  natural  deficiency  or  disability  in  him,  told  him  to  stop 
after  school,  and  he  would  talk  with  him.  When  the  schol 
ars  had  all  gone,  the  master  sat  down  by  the  boy,  and  soon 
learned  all  his  story.  His  father  was  a  drunkard,  —  all  the 
time  drunk,  —  he  didn't  have  good  clothes,  like  the  other 
boys  ;  and  so  they  '  looked  down '  upon  him,  and  he  had  n't 
anybody  to  give  him  books,  and  nobody  cared  about  him  to 
teach  him ;  but  he  wanted  to  learn,  like  the  rest  of  the  boys, 
and  not  be  an  idle  boy,  and  wished  his  father  was  not  a 
drunkard. 

"The  master,  therefore,  spoke  encouraging  words  to  the 
boy;  told  him  that  he  was  his  friend,  and  that  he  meant  to 
make  a  good  scholar  of  him.  '  Do  your  duty,'  said  he,  '  and 
before  the  school  is  done  the  scholars  will  not  look  down 
upon  you,  —  perhaps  some  of  them  will  look  up  to  you.'  The 
boy  brightened  up  at  this  thought,  and  the  master  dismissed 
him,  telling  him  that  they  would  turn  over  a  new  leaf  to 
morrow  ;  by  which  the  boy  thought  he  was  to  leave  '  baker ' 
behind,  which  would  indeed  be  a  bold  step. 

"  The  master  provided  a  new  spelling-book,  writing-book, 
and  slate  ;  and  when  Ax  came,  next  morning,  bright  with 
expectation,  he  was  advanced  to  a  seat  with  a  writing-bench, 
and  put  upon  a  course  of  exercises  adapted  to  his  age.  His 
first  attempts  were  awkward  enough  ;  but  the  master  was 
patient,  and  was  rewarded  by  seeing  the  encouraging  progress 
of  his  pupil.  He  also  called  the  attention  of  one  or  two 
neighbors  to  the  case,  and  soon  the  boy  appeared  with  a  new 
pair  of  boots,  and  several  other  external  improvements. 
Which  is  all  I  can  tell  of  the  story." 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  X  .  10'J 

Harry,  who  had  listened,  meditating  how  to  finish  it,  pro 
ceeded  in  a  light  and  punning  strain  : 

(Harry.}  "  This  little  Ax,  being  thus  handled,  became 
quite  a  different  instrument ;  and  soon  became  as  sharp  as 
he  had  before  been  dull.  Being  no  longer  cut  by  his  com 
panions,  his  temper  improved,  and  people  began  to  see  that 
he  was  made  of  the  '  right  stuff.'  Whoever  attempted  to 
impose  upon  him,  found  him  a  hard  customer ;  and  when 
disputes  arose,  he  could  use  knock-down  arguments.  After 
leaving  'baker,'  he  struck  boldly  at  the  tree  of  knowledge; 
what  he  did  n't  know,  he  axed  about,  and  soon  got  to  know 
everything. 

"  He  was  famous  in  mathematics,  especially  conic  sections, 
division,  and  fractions.  He  learned  to  chop  logic,  and  could 
split  hairs  in  metaphysics.  Those  who  had  heretofore  looked 
down  upon  him,  and  abused  him,  found  it  best  to  be  careful 
how  they  handled  edged  tools  ;  and  those  whose  trade  it  was 
to  grind  the  faces  of  the  poor  found  it  best  not  to  grind  him 
too  much.  After  quitting  school,  he  became  a  merchant ; 
and,  by  cutting  down  his  prices,  he  cut  out  all  competitors, 
and  soon  was  able  to  cut  a  great  figure.  He  was  no  longer 
the  hatchet-faced  '  baker '  boy  of  the  school.  He  became  a 
politician,  and  struck  a  bold  stroke  for  Congress.  When 
elected,  he  proved  himself  a  patriot  as  inflexible  as  iron,  and 
true  as  steel.  It  was  encouraging  to  hear  what  hard  knocks 
he  gave  to  the  hollow-hearted  government,  and  what  trim 
mings  to  the  underbrush  of  the  political  forest.  After  that, 
he  became  judge,  and  decided  causes  with  the  wisdom  of 
Solomon,  —  and  after  his  manner,  too,  for  he  always  split  the 
difference,  and  compelled  quarrelsome  litigants  to  bury  the 
hatchet.  The  longer  he  lived,  the  more  edge  he  got ;  and 
10 


110  WOLFSDEN. 

finally,  after  making  a  good  deal  of  noise  in  the  world,  as 
became  the  son  of  Bang,  he  left  his  mark  upon  his  genera 
tion,  and  then  died,  or,  as  might  be  expressed,  cut  stick. 
His  estate  cut  up  rich,  and  a  handsome  portion  of  it  he  be 
queathed  to  the  schoolmaster,  \vho  had  brightened  up  his  fac 
ulties,  and  sharpened  his  wits.  And  this  is  the  end  of  the 
last  chapter  of  Ax." 

Alek  was  appointed  to  commence  the  next  story,  and  Mar 
garet  to  finish  it.  The  young  people  had  associated  -Margaret 
with  Alek,  and  the  arrangement  was  natural.  In  the  present 
case,  both  would  be  glad  io  be  excused,  but  each  had  too 
much  spirit  to  decline. 

MATCH    STORY. IV. 

(Alek.)  "  There  is  a  country  of  considerable,  but  indefinite 
extent,  inhabited  by  an  incomprehensible  people.  The  coun 
try  is  called  the  Land  of  Change, —  not  with  reference  to  the 
currency,  but  to  the  instability  of  its  affairs.  The  people 
are  sometimes  called  the  Fools  of  Chance,  —  not  wholly  in 
reference  to  their  inaptitude  to  learn,  but  because  their  sagest 
conclusions  are  often  based  upon  some  fatal  error.  The 
country  is  pleasant  enough,  and  the  people,  being  accustomed 
to  its  instabilities,  seem  not  much  concerned  about  them, 
but  proceed  in  all  their  calculations  and  business  just  as  if 
everything  were  firm  and  reliable.  There  prevails  a  pecu 
liar  delusion  among  the  people,  that  each  one  seems  to  con 
sider  his  own  condition  and  calculations  safe  and  reliable, 
while  each  sees  that  his  neighbor  is  at  the  mercy  of  demon 
Chance. 

"In  this  region  dwelt  a  young  man,  who,  having  never  been 
anywhere  else,  thought  it  the  finest  country  in  the  world.  He 


WOLFSDEN.  Ill 

owned  a  considerable  territory,  embracing  some  beautiful 
views  to  be  seen  from  his  dwelling.  It  is  uncertain  whether 
he  owned  the  property  by  inheritance,  or  discovery,  or  posses 
sion.  Everything  is  uncertain  in  that  country ;  and  he  did 
not  scrutinize  his  title  very  closely,  perhaps  from  a  vague 
apprehension  that  he  might  find  a  flaw  in  it ;  for  he  was  so 
charmed  with  his  possessions  that  he  could  not  bear  to  raise  a 
doubt  about  their  permanence.  So,  taking  the  validity  of  his 
title  for  granted,  he  proceeded  to  build  a  castle  worthy  of  such 
valuable  possessions,  and  such  fine  prospects. 

"  He  laid  the  foundations  of  his  castle  on  the  spot  which 
commanded  the  best  and  loveliest  view  upon  his  estate.  He 
did  not  dig  very  deep  for  his  foundations,  for  he  thought 
chiefly  about  the  superstructure,  and  he  soon  raised  and  com 
pleted  it  to  his  fancy.  The  front  was  of  white  marble,  with 
spacious  windows,  from  which  he  viewed  with  delight  the 
lovely  scenery  before  him.  The  rear  and  end  walls  were  of 
hard  granite,  with  massive  buttresses,  intended  by  their 
strength  to  protect  the  slighter  structure  of  the  front.  Every 
thing  within  and  around  was  arranged  in  the  most  perfect 
order  for  convenience  and  taste ;  for  he  had  employed  two 
famous  artists  of  exceeding  skill,  whose  names  were  FAXCY 
and  HOPE  ;  and,  under  their  superintendence,  everything  was 
admirably  planned. 

"  When  all  was  finished  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  proprietor, 
he  took  great  delight  in  looking  from  his  spacious  windows 
upoti  the  prospects  beyond.  His  happiness  would  have  been 
perfect,  but  for  occasional  misgivings  about  his  title,  and 
regrets  that  he  had  not  dug  deeper  for  his  foundation. 

"  One  day,  a  stranger  came,  with  whom  the  proprietor  was 
much  pleased,  and  who  seemed  very  much  to  admire  the  beau- 


112  WOLFSDEX. 

tiful  prospect  from  the  windows  of  the  castle.  The  proprie 
tor  left  him  looking  from  the  windows,  while  he  himself  slept 
for  a  while. 

"When  he  awoke,  he  saw,  from  his  window,  that  the  stranger 
had  taken  a  spade  and  dug  a  trench  in  front  of  his  castle,  so 
that  it  was  impossible  to  pass  out  to  his  beautiful  prospect 
beyond ;  and,  though  he  could  still  see  and  admire  it  from  his 
window,  it  gave  him  pain,  instead  of  pleasure,  because  it  was 
inaccessible. 

"  He  saw,  also,  that  the  trench  was  dug  so  near  his  castle, 
that  the  front  was  already  undermined,  and  was  sinking  to 
its  fall  ;  for,  the  foundation  not  being  deep,  it  was  easily  over 
thrown.  And  when  he  knew  that  the  stranger  had  a  better 
title  than  his  own  to  the  land,  and  the  beautiful  prospects 
before  his  castle,  and  saw  the  impending  destruction  of  all  his 
possessions,  he  threw  himself  from  his  castle  windows  into  the 
trench  which  the  stranger  had  dug,  and  the  walls  fell  imme 
diately,  with  a  tremendous  crash,  and  buried  him  beneath 
their  ruins.  And  this  is  the  end,  so  far  as  I  know  anything 
about  it." 

As  Alek  proceeded  in  his  story,  Margaret  perceived  its 
hidden  meaning,  and  that  Alek  had  not  failed  to  observe  and 
interpret  her  emotion.  Her  heart  beat  with  troublesome 
throbs.  The  surroundings  of  whalebone  and  steel,  which,  in 
polished  society,  confine,  contract,  or  obliterate  that  important 
organ,  were  unknown  in  Wolfsden,  and  the  hearts  of  women 
as  of  men,  beat  freely  where  rustic  nature  placed  them. 

But,  before  Alek  had  ended,  Margaret  had  composed  her 
thoughts,  and  she  thus  proceeded : 

(Margaret.}  "When  the  noise  of  the  fall  had  subsided,  the 
proprietor  opened  his  eyes,  and,  looking  round,  found  that 


WOLFSDEX.  113 

nothing  had  fallen  but  a  slight  vase  of  flowers,  and  that  he 
had  been  all  the  time  dreaming ;  for  there  still  sat  the  stranger, 
as  sleepy  as  himself,  and  quite  unaware  of  all  the  imaginary 
trouble  of  which  he  had  been  made  the  instrument.  But,  though 
the  castle-builder  was  glad  to  awake  and  find  himself  whole 
and  safe,  he  was  impressed  with  the  warning  of  his  dream. 
He  reflected  upon  the  folly  of  building  upon  insecure  founda 
tions,  and  over-valuing  prospects  which  he  did  not  own.  He 
remembered  that  in  that  fickle  country  the  liability  to  change 
was  an  element  which  should  be  considered  in  every  project ; 
and  that,  as  this  could  not  be  guarded  against,  it  must  impair 
the  value  of  every  possession,  and  leave  less  cause  to  regret  its 
loss.  He  considered,  also,  that  what  was  so  insecure  might 
also,  in  other  respects,  be  less  desirable  than  he  had  supposed ; 
for,  as  he  had  not  travelled,  he  knew  not  what  valuable  pos 
sessions  might  be  unappropriated  elsewhere,  and  to  which  he 
might  obtain  a  better  title.  In  short,  growing  still  more 
doubtful  and  dissatisfied  with  his  present  position,  he  con 
cluded  to  survey  his  castle  anew.  He  found  many  things 
about  it  which,  now  that  the  glare  of  novelty  was  worn  off, 
seemed  misplaced,  inconvenient,  and  even  absurd.  The  castle 
was  constructed  in  violation  of  all  just  proportions  and  good 
taste ;  the  foundation  was  even  more  insecure  than  he  had 
feared,  so  that  he  considered  it  unsafe  even  to  return  to  waken 
the  stranger  whom  he  had  left  sleeping  in  the  window.  He 
then  resolved  to  abandon  his  fancied  possession  without 
regret.  '  I  am  young,'  said  he,  '  the  world  is  wide,  —  I  will 
explore  it  further,  and  will  only  fix  my  habitation  when  I 
have  skill  to  choose  wisely,  and  can  be  well  assured  of  my 
title.'  And  so  he  departed,  wiser  and  far  more  happy  than 
before  ;  for  fortune  had  in  store  for  him  choicer  things  than 
10* 


114  WOLFSDEN. 

he  had  imagined,  but  of  which  I  am  not  informed,  and  there 
fore  end  the  story  here." 

All  applauded  the  story  and  its  obvious  moral,  though  Alek 
and  Margaret  were  the  only  ones  who  felt  its  particular  appli 
cation. 

Isaac  was  next  called  upon  for  his  story.  Ike  was  humor 
ous,  loved  burlesque,  and  paid  little  attention  to  the  probabil 
ities  or  the  moral  of  his  stories,  and  therefore  generally  ran 
into  wild  extravagance.  In  the  present  case  the  appointment 
fell  upon  -Ann  to  finish  the  story. 

MATCH    STORY. V. 

(Isaac.)  "An  old  man  and  old  woman,  and  their  daughter, 
lived  together  in  a  castle.  —  A  castle  is  as  cheap  to  put  in  a 
story  as  a  cottage ;  so  we  '11  give  them  a  castle,  for  they  had 
not  much  else.  The  old  man  was  a  shoemaker,  and  his  wife 
was  a  witch,  and  the  daughter  employed  her  time  in  making 
nets  for  cabbage-heads,  and  fishing  for  gudgeons  in  a  pond 
hard  by. 

"  The  country  about  the  castle  was  pleasant  enough,  though 
rather  wild,  and  there  were  many  very  reputable  and  good 
people  scattered  about ;  but  many  of  the  inhabitants  were 
ignorant,  and  some  were  bad  and  cunning,  for  the  ignorant 
and  bad  often  become  cunning,  just  as  the  good  and  well- 
instructed  often  become  wise.  Of  these  the  worst  and  most 
ignorant  were  witches  and  fortune-tellers,  like  the  old  woman 
in  the  castle.  The  old  man  was  ignorant  and  bad,  and  also 
cunning  ;  and,  thinking  it  easier  to  get  his  living  by  his  cun 
ning  than  by  industry,  he  went  about  to  his  neighbors  and 
promised  to  bring  them  shoes,  by  and  by,  if  they  would  give 
him  food,  and  clothes,  and  money,  now.  So  they  gave  him 


WOLFSDEX.  11C. 

what  he  asked  for,  and  he  and  his  wife  and  his  daughter  ate 
heartily,  and  dressed  finely,  while  the  good  things  lasted. 

"  But  the  old  man  did  not  make  the  shoes  which  he  prom 
ised  ;  and  when  they  had  eaten  up  and  worn  out  all  they  liad, 
they  were  very  poor ;  for  the  neighbors,  who  had  been  cheated 
once,  would  not  trust  them  again ;  but  still  they  could  not  be 
made  to  understand  that  honesty  is  better  than  cunning. 

"  So  they  concluded  to*  practise  the  black  art,  which  the 
daughter  had  already  partly  learned  from  the  old  witch,  her 
mother,  and  by  which  they  hoped  to  gain  much  money  ;  and 
they  went  about  in  unfrequented  places,  and  caught  foxes, 
cats,  snakes,  and  lizards,  and  gathered  thistle-tops,  and  but 
tercups  ;  and  the  old  woman  boiled  them  and  made  a  kettle 
full  of  broth,  and  they  spread  the  cats'  skins  for  a  table-cloth, 
and  sipped  the  broth  for  many  days,  until  they  had -acquired 
the  nature  of  its  ingredients,  and  were  smooth,  deceitful,  un 
grateful,  and  poisonous. 

"  When  they  had  acquired  all  these  fine  accomplishments, 
they  supposed  that  they  should  do  very  well,  as  they  could 
now  transform  themselves  into  the  shapes  of  all  those  odious 
creatures,  and  could  return  to  their  own  forms  when  they 
chose,  by  which  tricks  they  hoped  to  make  their  fortunes. 

"  Then  the  old  woman  told  her  daughter,  whose  name  was 
Mewy,  to  curl  her  hair  in  little  snaky  tresses,  and  put  some 
bright  buttercup  ribbons  round  her  neck,  and  put  on  a  pair 
of  grcfn  lizard-skin  shoes,  and  sit  in  the  door,  and  purr  like 
a  cat,  and  look  sly  like  a  fox ;  and  when  a  nice  young  man 
should  pass  by,  he  would  stop  and  ask  her  to  marry  him. 

"  So  she  dressed  herself  as  directed,  and  sat  in  the  door, 
and  purred  like  a  cat,  and  looked  sly  like  a  fox.  And  a  good 
many  nice  young  men  came  by,  and  some  of  them  stopped  and 


116  AVO  LI'S  DEN. 

heard  her  purr,  and  admired  her  sly  looks ;  but  none  of  them 
asked  her  to  marry. 

"At  last,  a  nice  young  man  came  by  when  she  was  purring 
her  prettiest,  and  looking  her  slyest,  and  he  asked  her  to  marry 
him.  And  she  said  yes,  and  gave  her  hand  to  the  young  man  ; 
and  it  felt  soft  and  smooth  as  velvet ;  the  sharp  claws  were 
drawn  in. 

"  Pretty  soon  the  old  man  camo  in,  and,  finding  that  his 
daughter  had  entrapped  a  nice  young  man,  he  spoke  very  civ 
illy  to  him,  and  asked  to  borrow  his  watch,  which  the  young 
man  willingly  lent,  and  went  home  very  happy  without  it ; 
for  he  was  in  love  with  the  daughter,  and  he  dreamed  that 
night  that  he  was  lucky  as  Whittington,  who  became  Lord 
Mayor  by  means  of  a  cat. 

"  The  next  day  being  rainy,  he  took  his  umbrella  and  came 
and  sat  by  Mewy,  and  listened  to  her  purring,  and  took  her 
soft,  velvety  hand,  and  admired  her  sly  looks,  and  snaky 
curls,  and  lizard  shoes.  And  the  old  man  came  in  and  borrowed 
his  umbrella ;  and  the  nice  young  man  went  homo  and  dreamed 
that  he  had  been  a  voyage  with  Sinbad  the  Sailor,  and  had 
found  a  great  many  diamonds  in  the  valley  of  snakes. 

"  The  next  day  was  muddy,  and  he  put  on  his  overshoes 
and  went,  and  was  entertained  as  before.  And  the  old  man 
came  in  and  borrowed  his  overshoes,  and  ho  went  home  in  his 
slippers ;  and  that  night  he  dreamed  of  King  Midas,  who  wore 
asses'  ears ;  and  he  was  much  puzzled  and  a  little  alarmed 
about  its  meaning,  for  the  dream  had  been  sent  by  his  good 
genius  to  give  him  warning. 

"  So  he  went  the  next  day  to  get  back  his  watch,  and  um 
brella,  and  overshoes.  But  Mewy  had  hidden  them  ;  and  when 
he  went  to  search  for  them  she  flew  at  him  and  squalled  like 


W  0  L  V  S  D  E  X  .  ill 

a  rnad  cat,  and  thrust  out  her  sharp  claws,  so  that  he  was 
glad  to  escape  without  watch,  umbrella,  or  overshoes.  And  he 
dreamed  that  night  about  Christian  and  Hopeful,  who  escaped 
from  the  den  of  the  Giant  Despair ;  and  he  came  no  more  to 
see  Mewy. 

"  But  there  lived  back  in  the  mountains  a  countryman 
named  Bruin.  He  lived  there  so  long  alone  that  he  became 
very  rustic  and  clownish,  and,  as  he  kitted  and  ate  many 
bears,  he  became  much  like  a  bear  in  manners  and  disposi 
tion  ;  and,  when  he  was  tired  of  living  alone,  he  came  down  out 
of  the  mountains,  and  asked  Mewy  to  marry  him.  And  she  said 
yes,  and  looked  sly,  and  purred  softly ;  and  he  gave  her  a 
hug,  like  a  bear ;  for  he  liked  her  very  much,  and  knew  noth 
ing  of  her  sharp  claws  ;  or,  if  he  knew,  he  did  not  care,  for 
his  skin  was  tough. 

"  After  a  while  the  old  man  came  in,  and,  seeing  that  Bruin 
was  in  love,  and  was  also  very  fat,  he  begged  to  borrow  some 
fat.  But  Bruin  answered,  roughly,  that  he  had  no  fat  to  lend  ; 
and  after  a  while  Bruin  went  home,  and  dreamed  that  he  had 
found  a  bee-hive,  which,  on  trial,  yielded  no  honey,  but  proved 
to  be  a  wasps'  nest.  This  dream  was  sent  by  his  good  genius, 
but  Bruin  paid  no  attention  to  it. 

"  When  Bruin  came  again  he  gave  Mewy  another  hug,  and 
heard  her  purr,  and  was  more  delighted  than  ever.  And  the 
old  man  came  in  and  begged  to  borrow  his  bear-skin  coat ;  but 
Bruin  answered,  with  a  growl,  that  he  chose  to  keep  his  coat 
for  his  own  use. 

"  ^Yhen  he  was  gone  the  family  had  a  consultation 
whether  Mewy  should  marry  Bruin.  The  old  man  thought 
it  would  not  pay;  for  Bruin  was  too  wise,  and  meant  to  keep 
his  good  things  to  himself.  But  the  old  woman  was  in  favor 


118  WOLFSDEN. 

of  the  match  ;  for  Mewy  was  getting  old,  and  might  not  have 
another  offer  ;  and  she  thought  that  when  Mewy  was  married 
to  Bruin  they  might  be  able  to.  borrow,  or  beg,  or  steal  fat, 
and  fur,  and  other  good  things,  from  him. 

"  But  Mewy  said  she  would  not  make  up  her  mind  just 
then,  but  would  keep  Bruin  along,  as  she  could  marry  him  at 
any  time  ;  but,  if  she  should  have  any  better  offer,  she  would 
dismiss  him.  So  'Bruin  came  frequently,  and  would  hug 
Mewy,  and  she  would  purr  and  look  sly,  but  would  not  name 
a  day  to  marry  him ;  for  she  still  hoped  for  a  better  offer. 
And  this  is  all  I  can  say  about  it." 

(Anne).  "  In  another  part  of  the  country  was  a  place 
called  'Happy  Home.'  It  was  a  pleasant  cottage  by  the 
bank  of  a  beautiful  stream,  with  green  meadows,  and  fruitful 
fields,  and  shady  trees,  and  cows,  and  sheep,  and  everything 
delightful. 

"  In  the  cottage  lived  a  brother  and  sister,  whose  names 
were  Manalone  and  Maralone ;  and  the  sister  had  two  beauti 
ful  children,  and  they  all  four  lived  very  happily  in  the  cot 
tage,  and  took  care  of  their  grounds,  and  had  plenty  of  milk, 
and  butter,  and  wool,  and' a  fine  garden,  where  grew  all  vari 
eties  of  fruit.  And  the  sister  was  a  wise  woman,  and  taught 
her  children  properly,  so  that  love  and  contentment  prevailed 
in  Happy  Home. 

"  But  the  brother  one  day  had  occasion  to  travel ;  and  he 
saddled  his  pony  and  rode  all  day,  and  towards  night  he 
passed  by  a  castle,  and  saw  a  woman  with  curls,  and  ribbons, 
and  green  lizard-skin  shoes,  and  asked  of  her  the  way.  And 
she  looked  very  demure  and  amiable,  and  invited  him  to  stop 
and  rest*  And  the  old  man  came  out  and  urged  him  to  tarry ; 
and.  being  tired,  he  consented  to  remain  all  night.  And  the 


WOLFSDEN.  119 

• 

woman,  whose  name  was  Mewy,  looked  sly,  and  purred,  and 
tried  to  appear  amiable ;  but  Manalone  said  he  was  tired, 
and  went  to  bed. 

"  While  he  slept  (he  family  held  a  consultation.  And  the 
old  woman  said  that  she  had  heard  much  about  Manalone ; 
that  he  was  generous,  and  gave  away  a  great  many  thing?, 
and  if  Mewy  should  marry  him  they  would  all  get  a  good 
living  from  him.  And  the  old  man  said  the  same,  and  Mewy 
said  she  would  try  to  get  him. 

"  In  the  morning,  when  Manalone  got  up,  they  all  pre 
tended  to  like  him  very  much,  and  gave  him  breakfast,  and 
invited  him  to  come  and  see  them  again.  And  he  thought  they 
were  very  nice  people,  and  asked  them  to  come  and  see  him 
and  Maralone  at  Happy  Home.  Mewy  said  she  would  cer 
tainly  come,  and  then  Manalone  returned  home. 

"  After  a  time,  Mewy  dressed  herself  in  her  best,  and  curled 
her  hair,  and  put  on  her  ribbons  and  her  lizard-skin  shoes, 
and  commenced  her  journey.  She  walked  fast  all  day,  and 
at  night  arrived  at  Happy  Home.  Manalone  and  his  sister 
were  glad  to  see  her,  for  they  thought  she  was  as  good  as  she 
appeared. 

"  And  she  remained  many  days,  and  helped  Maralonc  take 
care  of  the  children,  and  pretended  to  love  them.  And  Mana 
lone  thought  she  would  be  a  pleasant  companion  to  him  and 
his  sister  ;  and  he  asked  her  to  marry  him,  and  .she  said  yes. 
And  he  went  and  told  his  sister  that  Mewy  had  promised  to 
marry  him,  and  live  with  them. 

"  But  his  sister  felt  sad  when  she  heard  it ;  for  she  loved 
her  brother  and  their  happy  home,  and  she  feared  that  any 
alteration  might  lessen  their  happiness.  And,  besides,  she  had 
begun  to  fear  that  Mewy  was  not  quite  so  good  as  she  seemed  ; 


120 


WOLFSDEN. 


for  Maralonc  was  wiser  than  her  brother,  and  had  learned  to 
look  more  deeply  into  character.  But  when  she  knew  that 
he  had  promised  to  marry  Mewy,  she  did  not  oppose  it,  but 
hoped  for  the  best. 

"  That  night  Manalone  dreamed  that  he  went  a  voyage 
with  Sinbad  the  Sailor,  and  came  to  a  desert  island,  and  the 
Old  Man  of  the  Sea  came  and  got  on  his  shoulders,  and  he 
could  not  get  him  off.  This  dream  was  sent  by  his  good 
genius  to  give  him  warning  ;  but  Manalone  was  too  much 
infatuated  to  understand  it,  and  pretty  soon  he  married 
Mewy. 

"  When  Mewy  was  established  in  Happy  Home,  she  soon 
showed  her  real  character ;  for,  though  put  in  possession  of 
all  the  pleasant  things  she  had  coveted,  she  was  not  content 
to  enjoy  them  in  peaceful  partnership,  but  was  like  the  fox, 
of  whose  nature  she  partook,  which,  though  fed  bounteously, 
instinctively  carries  away  his  food  and  hides  it,  to  eat  in  soli 
tude.  So  Mewy  sought  by  stealth,  or  violence,  to  obtain  ex 
clusive  possession  of  the  benefits  provided  for  all.  To  this 
end,  her  first  efforts  were  to  drive  Maralone  from  Happy 
Home ;  and  she  soon  succeeded  in  making  her  position  so  un 
pleasant  that  she  was  compelled  to  go,  with  her  two  children, 
to  another  house. 

"  Manalone  was  unhappy  when  he  found  that  he  had 
brought  trouble  to  Happy  Home.  He  visited  his  sister  often, 
and  tried  to  comfort  her.  And  Maralone  talked  with  him,  and 
told  him  it  was  best  to  bear  their  trials  patiently  ;  for  there 
was  another  house  building  for  them  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river,  which  they  would  soon  be  permitted  to  dwell  in,  and 
where  no  wicked  person  could  come  to  trouble  them. 

"  And  Maralone  appeared  very  bright  and  cheerful  when 


YTOLFSDEN'.  121 

she  spoke  of  this,  although  she  soon  grew  pale  and  feeble ; 
and  after  a  while  she  told  her  brother  that  her  house  was 
ready  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  and  that  she  had  great 
riches  stored  there,  and  also  some  dear  friends  were  there 
expecting  her,  who  had  provided  everything  to  make  her 
happy. 

"  She  also  told  her  brother  to  get  ready  to  follow  soon  ; 
and  then,  being  quite  prepared,  she  went  down  to  the  river, 
and  her  brother  went  with  her  to  the  shore,  and  she  stepped 
cheerfully  in,  and  was  soon  out  of  sight ;  for  there  was  a 
mist  hung  over  the  river,  so  that  her  brother  could  not  see 
across  it ;  but  he  knew  that  she  had  gone  to  another  happy 
home,  of  which  she  could  not  be  deprived;  and,  though  he  felt 
lonely,  he  rejoiced  that  she  had  passed  away  from  her  sor 
rows. 

"  And  after  that  Manalone  walked  often  by  the  river,  and 
tried  to  look  across  it,  but  the  thick  mist  prevented.  Yet,  as 
he  grew  old,  and  his  face  grew  thin,  and  his  hair  grew  white, 
his  sight  became  clearer ;  and  sometimes,  as  he  walked  by 
the  river,  he  thought  he  could  see  sweet  fields  and  beautiful 
dwellings,  and  many  very  happy  people  ;  and  among  others 
his  sister  Maralone,  and  others  dear  to  them  both,  and  one 
loved  dearer  than  all,  and  that  they  were  beckoning  him  to 
come  ;  and  he  resolved  that  he  would  prepare  to  go  as  soon 
as  possible." 

Hezekiah  was  next  invited  to  take  his  turn,  to  which  he 
assented,  premising  that  whatever  interest  they  might  find 
in  his  story  must  not  be  credited  to  his  imagination,  as  he 
should  only  repeat  the  beginning  of  a  manuscript  story,  long 
preserved  in  his  family,  and  which  Helen,  having  heard 
11 


1 22  W  0  L  I"  S  D  E  N  . 

their  grandmother  repeat,  was  qualified  to  finish.     With  this 
preface,  he  began. 

MATCH    STORY. VI. 

(Hezckiah.}  "  The  mysteries  of  the  Salem  witchcraft  are 
such  that  time  cannot  solve  them,  till  we  know  more  of  the 
spiritual  world,  and  of  our  relation,"  to  it.  Much  of  it  was 
doubtless  imposture,  and  this  fact  gave  currency  to  the  belief 
that  it  was  wholly  so  ;  but  there  are  circumstances  which 
cannot  be  so  interpreted  without  disregarding  the  strongest 
evidence  to  the  contrary.  The  story  which  I  am  about  to 
give  could  be  supported  by  such  proof  as  would  be  difficult, 
at  least,  to  explain  away,  if  any  benefit  could  be  anticipated 
from  the  verification  of  such  wonders.  But  it  seems  useless 
to  pursue  investigation  into  the  truth  of  facts,  which,  when 
established,  cannot  be  understood,  or  employed  for  any  useful 
purpose. 

"There  lived  in  Salem  village  —  now  Danvers —  during 
the  Andros  administration  of  the  colonial  government  of 
Massachusetts,  a  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Levering,  of  high 
social  position,  and  supposed  to  be  very  wealthy.  He  held 
some  office,  which  required  occasional  attendance  at  the  seat 
of  government ;  at  other  times,  and,  indeed,  most  of  the  time, 
he  resided  at  home. 

"  His  house  was  an  aristocratic  mansion,  situated  upon 
a  rising  ground,  and  surrounded  by  a  walled  park,  through 
which  were  various  avenues,  smoothly  gravelled  and  bordered 
by  box  and  other  evergreens.  The  ample  grounds,  so  well 
arranged,  and  neatly  kept,  the  elegant  carriage  and  horses, 
the  costly  style  and  furniture  of  the  mansion,  all  bespoke  the 
owner's  affluence  and  taste. 


WOLFSDEN.  12 

"  The  appearance  of  the  proprietor  was  in  keeping  with  his 
estate.  His  air  and  manners  indicated  habitual  superiority, 
though  there  was  nothing  arrogant  or  offensive  in  his  deport 
ment  to  those  about  him,  who  were  generally  willing  enough 
to  yield  the  deference  which  wealth  and  power  claim  from  the 
humble. 

"  His  wife,  though  seldom  seen,  was  well  known  to  be  a  lady 
of  remarkable  gentleness  and  sweetness  of  disposition,  and  pos 
sessed  of  that  peculiar  kind  of  piety  which  tends  to  humility 
and  good  works.  She  was  regarded,  therefore,  with  as  much 
real  reverence  and  love  as  her  lord  was  with  apparent  defer 
ence  and  submission.  Both,  however,  were  known  to  belong 
to  the  Episcopal  party,  and  were  supposed  to  be  church  com 
municants  ;  which,  in  that  Puritan  community,  much  impaired 
the  influence  they  might  have  possessed. 

"Apart,  and  at  some  distance  from  the  elegant  estate, 
dwelt  Goodman  Hobart,  a  plain  farmer,  of  simple  habits,  but 
strong  character,  and  highly  valued  by  Mr.  Levering  as  neigh 
bor  and  friend. 

"  Goody  Hobart,  the  good  man's  wife,  was  a  quiet-looking, 
motherly  sort  of  a  woman,  of  a  remarkable  knack  at  keep 
ing  her  house  in  good  order.  She  had  lost  her  two  elder  chil 
dren,  but  her  youngest,  a  fine  boy  of  about  six  years,  was 
enough  to  employ  a  mother's  care  and  solicitude ;  and  well  he 
repaid  it,  for  even  at  that  age  he  could  read  the  '  New  Eng 
land  Primer,'  answer  the  easy  questions  (by  which  is  meant 
those  with  brief  answers)  in  the  catechism,  and  repeat  the 
'  Dialogue  of  Christ,  Youth,  and  the  Devil.' 

"  Goody  Hobart  was  more  familiar  at  the  '  mansion  '  than 
her  husband,  for  the  lady  not  only  frequently  sent  for  her 
under  pretence  of  asking  advice  about  domestic  affairs,  which 


124  W  O  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

was  always  followed  by  a  cup  of  tea,  —  a  rare  treat  in  those 
days,  —  but  would  often  come  over  to  the  farmhouse  and 
spend  an  hour,  taking  great  interest  in  the  dairy,  chickens, 
&c.,  which  Goody  was  only  too  well  pleased  to  show  to  so 
pleasant  a  lady.  She  also  frequently  invited  young  Azariah, 
and  made  him  more  familiar  with  the  mansion  than  anybody 
else. 

"After  a  time  these  visits  ceased  on  the  lady's  part,  but 
Goody's  became  more  frequent ;  and,  after  a  little  longer  time, 
Goody  had  the  good  news  to  tell  that  the  lady  had  a  fine  lit 
tle  daughter ;  but  soon  after  the  good  news  was  saddened 
with  the  addition  that  the  lady  was  very  low,  that  it  was 
feared  she  was  declining ;  and,  after  a  few  weeks,  the  fears 
were  confirmed,  —  the  lady  was  dead.  Great  was  her  hus 
band's  grief,  for  great  was  his  loss.  Goody  Hobart  was  en 
treated  to  take  the  superintendence  of  his  daughter  into  her 
own  hands,  which  she  willingly  assented  to. 

"During  the  following  three  years,  the  infant  Jane — for  so 
she  was  named  —  grew  and  improved  in  every  childish ,  grace. 
At  the  end  of  three  years  Mr.  Levering  announced  to  Goody 
Hobart  his  approaching  second  marriage,  and  in  less  than 
a  month  brought  his  new.  bride  to  his  old  mansion. 

"  When  Goody  Hobart  saw  the  bride  he  had  brought  to 
take  the  place  of  the  favorite  lady,  and  to  be  the  mother  to 
the  child  whom  she  had  cherished  so  long,  she  felt  an  instinct 
ive  dread  and  aversion  towards  her,  without  knowing  why. 
The  new  lady  was  tall  and  elegant  in  her  person  and  manners, 
with  a  smile  sufficiently  condescending,  and  a  self-possession 
and  promptitude  of  action  which  indicated  sufficient  capability. 
Little  Jane  shrunk  from  her  at  first ;  but,  being  told  by  her 
father  that  it  was  her  new  mamma,  came  confidingly  to  her, 


WOLFSDEN.  125 

for  she  had  been  taught  sweet  associations  with  that  word.  The 
mansion  was  again  inhabited,  Jane  was  installed  by  her  fath 
er's  desire  in  her  mother's  favorite  chamber,  and  things  were 
returned  to  their  old  order.  But  in  their  old  order  they  did 
not  long  remain.  The  new  lady  chose  to  signalize  her  acces 
sion  by  innovations  of  no  slight  character.  Painting,  gilding, 
costly  hangings,  and  rich  and  showy  furniture,  changed  its 
former  elegant  but  unostentatious  aspect.  Soon  the  old  house 
keeper  and  gardener  were  discharged,  the  number  of  servants 
largely  increased,  some  of  them  put  in  livery,  and  all  the 
modes  of  vulgar-minded  display  were  adopted  by  which  wealth 
may  be  made  to  excite  envy,  hatred,  or  contempt. 

"  By  the  lady's  persuasion,  her  husband  was  induced  to  take 
a  great  share  in  some  moonshine  speculation  then  rife,  in 
which  great  gains  were  promised  to  adventurers ;  and  this, 
with  the  lavish  expenditures  of  his  lady,  so  embarrassed  Lev- 
ering's  affairs,  that  he  was  driven  into  bankruptcy. 

"  He  bore  his  misfortune  with  magnanimity,  but  its  effects 
upon  the  lady  were  marked  and  violent.  She  was  no  way 
subdued  or  disheartened  by  the  misfortune,  but  provoked  to 
stronger  and  worse  manifestations  of  energy.  Her  first  efforts 
were  to  abstract  and  conceal  as  large  a  portion  of  the  property 
as  possible ;  and  then  to  dispute,  inch  by  inch,  the  creditors' 
claim  to  what  remained. 

"  When  the  available  effects  were  sold,  and  the  establish 
ment  reduced  to  reasonable  limits,  enough  still  remained, 
with  the  income  of  his  office,  for  decent  support ;  but  not 
enough  to  satisfy,  or  even  mollify,  the  lady,  who  had  not  been 
content  when  in  possession  of  the  whole.  She  constantly 
beset  her  husband  with  complaints,  reproaches,  predictions  of 
utter  destitution,  and  assurances  of  the  present  contempt  of 
11* 


126  WOLFSDEN. 

all  his  acquaintances ;  for  she  could  have  no  idea  of  rdspccta- 
bility  apart  from  riches,  and  since  her  husband  had  lost  his 
wealth  she  had  lost  even  the  semblance  of  respect  for  him._ 
In  her  harangues  she  urgently  advised  him  to  bestir  himself 
and  retrieve  their  fortune,  giving  numerous  instances  of  others' 
success,  and  suggesting  various  schemes  of  her  own,  some  of 
them  absurd,  and  others  of  still  worse  character.  Mr.  Lever 
ing,  lacking  energy  to  repel  these  assaults,  and  tired  of  their 
perpetual  din,  took  refuge  in  the  bottle,  to  which,  since  his 
last  marriage,  he  had  become  accustomed. 

"  His  former  intimacy  with  his  neighbor  Hobart  had  nearly 
come  to  an  end.  Neither  the  good  man  nor  his  wife  were  seen 
at  the  mansion ;  but  Azariah,  a  tall,  smart  lad,  of  ten  or 
eleven  years,- was  a  favorite  with  Mr.  Levering,  and  especially 
with  little  Jane,  who  visited  Goody  Hobart's  house  with  unre 
strained  liberty,  where  she  was  always  gladly  welcomed. 

"  Mr.  Jeremiah  Haven,  a  young  clergyman,  of  solemn 
deportment  andinuch  zeal,  recently  ordained,  and  particularly 
recommended  by  the  Rev.  Increase  Mather,  President  of 
Harvard  College,  as  a  young  man  of  godly  spirit  and  great 
promise,  was  at  that  time  resident  with  Mr.  Parris,  then  min 
ister  of  Salem  village.  Mr.  Haven  frequently  visited  Good 
man  Ilobart,  and  took  a  great  liking  to  little  Jane,  which  he 
manifested  by  much  serious  instruction  and  counsel,  and  by 
heaping  frequently  her  recitations  in  the  catechism.  Azariah 
also  shared  the  admonitions  and  instructions  of  the  earnest 
young  minister. 

"About  that  time  was  frequently  seen  in  that  vicinity  a 
stranger,  whose  appearance  excited  much  attention  and  re 
mark,  because  no  one  knew  or  could  obtain  any  account  of 
him.  He  was  first  met  by  some  children  in  a  retired  lane,  at 


WOLFSDEX.  127 

a  little  distance  from  the  village.  He  was  a  tall,  well-formed 
person,  of  quick  motion,  though  uneven  gait.  He  wore  a 
large-brimmed  hat,  not  looped  up  in  the  fashion  of  the  time, 
but  napping.  His  outer  garment  resembled  the  cassock  worn 
by  priests,  and  was  of  such  length  as  to  touch  the  ground.  One 
of  the  children  got  a  glimpse  of  his  face,  and  described  it  as 
pale  and  thin,  with  a  hooked  nose,  and  a  terrible  sharp  eye. 

"After  this  he  was  often  seen  in  various  places,  always 
alone,  and  walking  quickly,  but  never  far  from  the  village ;  and 
never  by  more  than  one  or  two  at  a  time,  except  when  he  was 
first  met  by  the  children.  Sometimes  his  sudden  appearance  was 
extraordinary  ;  for  persons  affirmed  that  when  travelling  the 
road,  with  no  one  in  sight,  suddenly  the  stranger  would  appear 
within  a  few  yards,  and  pass  without  greeting,  and,  after  pass 
ing,  would  disappear  as  quickly.  It  was  also  remarked  that 
he  was  never  seen,  except  at  a  distance,  by  either  of  the  min 
isters,  or  other  men  of  reliable  standing  in  the  church ;  but  fre 
quently  by  women,  children,  and  the  lighter  sort  of  young  men. 

"Soon  after,  it  was  found  that  the  mysterious  stranger  was  an 
acquaintance,  or  had  formed  an  acquaintance,  with  the  lady  at 
the  mansion.  It  was  not  known  whether  he  visited  there;  but  he 
was  seen  walking  and  conversing  with  the  lady  in  the  dusk  of 
the  evening,  at  some  distance  from  the  house,  and  sometimes 
in  the  twilight,  in  places  so  retired  as  would  have  excited 
scandal,  but  for  their  extremely  serious  deportment ;  and  it 
was  observed  that  the  lady  became  more  gloomy  and  discon 
tented  than  ever.  It  was  also  noticed  that  her  formerly  rather 
handsome  countenance  had  become  prematurely  changed  to  an 
ugly  and  peculiarly  unpleasant  aspect  :  and  her  complexion 
became  of  a  blighted  yellow  color,  with  innumerable  small 
wrinkles,  like  those  upon  leaves  exposed  to  a  scorching  heat, 


128  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

•while  her  eyes,  never  remarkable  for  frankness  of  expression, 
Avere  now  always  turned  aside,  with  a  suspicious  glance.  This 
was  talked  of  more  freely  afterward,  but  noticed  by  several 
at  that  time. 

"  Mr.  Levering,  when  at  home,  sat  sometimes  in  the  parlor 
with  his  bottle,  sometimes  in  the  library  with  his  books,  and 
sometimes  with  his  daughter  in  her  chamber,  or  in  the  garden. 
Since  his  loss  of  fortune  the  old  housekeeper  had  been  restored 
by  Mr.  Levering's  influence,  and  she  was  now  specially  com 
missioned  with  the  care  of  Jane. 

"  Little  Jane's  chamber  was,  as  has  been  observed,  that 
which  was  formerly  her  mothers,  and  in  which  the  daughter 
was  born.  In  the  late  renovation  of  the  house,  this  room,  by 
Mr.  Levering's  express  command,  had  been  left  undisturbed. 
Everything  remained  as  when  her  mother  lived  and  died.  Her 
favorite  books  lay  upon  her  dressing-case ;  her  work-basket, 
with  its  light  implements,  stood  upon  the  toilet-table  ;  the  mir 
ror  which  had  reflected  her  fair  form,  and  the  portrait  painted 
in  her  bridal  bloom,  still  hung  against  the  wall.  Here  Jane 
slept ;  here  she  said  her  morning  and  evening  prayers  ;  and 
here  her  father  spent  many  pleasant  hours  with  her,  notwith 
standing  the  untoward  circumstances  around,  and  notwith 
standing  his  degenerating  habits.  Into  this  room  the  step 
mother  never  came.  Mrs.  Jenkins'  room  was  on  another  floor, 
a  few  steps  lower,  but  nearly  adjoining. 

"  A  few  days  after  the  stranger  spoken  of  was  seen  convers 
ing  with  the  lady,  it  happened  that  two  young  men  of  the 
village,  Dick  '  Furlong  and  Harry  Wilder,  being  near  the 
mansion,  one  evening,  a  little  after  dusk,  saw  a  heavy  wagon, s 
drawn  by  four  small  black  horses,  stop  suddenly  in  front  of 
the  avenue  leading  up  to  the  house ;  several  men,  small  of 


WOLFSDEN.  12t> 

stature,  but  of  wonderful  activity  and  strength,  commenced 
unloading  heavy  bales  and  boxes,  throwing  them  with  reck 
less  violence  over  the  way,  and  against  the  iron  gate.  The 
articles  were  of  various  sizes,  but  all  evidently  of  great 
weight ;  yet  the  men  handled  and  tossed  them,  one  over  an 
other,  as  if  they  were  bags  of  feathers.  This  they  did  with 
the  most  extravagant  feats  of  activity,  —  vaulting,  throwing 
somersets,  leaping  over  one  another's  heads,  all  the  time 
shouting  and  screaming  in  the  most  uproarious  manner.  One 
little  fellow,  with  red  hair  and  enormous  whiskers,  seized  an 
iron-bound  chest  of  twice  his  size,  and  threw  it  from  the 
wagon  sheer  over  the  gate  upon  the  gravelled  walk  beyond, 
where  it  imbedded  itself  deeply  in  the  solid  earth.  There 
were  many  boxes  and  bales ;  some  square,  some  like  enor 
mous  iron  kettles,  some  like  coffins,  and  some  bound  about  as 
if  with  the  hides  of  animals ;  but  all  were  believed  to  be  filled 
with  silver  coin,  and  other  valuables.  The  men  were  but  a 
few  moments  unloading,  though  the  load  was  large  ;  and  all 
this  time  their  extravagance  of  behavior  increased.  One 
outlandish  fellow,  with  large  silver  earrings,  and  with  his 
hair  braided  behind  in  an  enormous  pigtail,  seized  a  coffin- 
shaped  box,  and,  placing  it  perpendicularly  upon  his  head, 
marched  up  to  the  gate,  and  leaping  over  it  with  an  unearth 
ly  shout,  ran  up  the  avenue  to  the  house,  where,  with  a  toss 
of  the  head,  he  deposited  it  upon  the  door-stone,  still  in  an 
upright  position.  Another,  following  his  example,  crowned 
himself  with  a  huge  kettle,  and  danced  up  the  avenue  in  tho 
same  style,  followed  in  like  manner  by  the  others.  In  return 
ing  for  the  remaining  bales,  they  threw  somersets  over  each 
other's  heads,  ran  rapidly  upon  all  fours,  or  upon  their  hands 
with  their  heels  elevated  in  the  air,  and  all  the  time  laughing 


130  WOLFSDEN. 

and  shouting  and  uttering  uncouth  sounds,  like  words  of  some 
unknown  language.  The  door  was  seen  to  be  opened  by  the 
lady  herself,  and  the  strange  porters,  with  their  strange 
loads,  disappeared  within  the  house  in  the  same  manner. 
Meantime,  the  horses  were  impatiently  pawing  and  neighing 
in  the  street,  while  a  cloud  of  smoke  ascended  from  their 
nostrils,  and  their  eyes  gleamed  with  strange  brightness. 

"  After  a  few  moments,  during  which,  tremendous  blows 
and  crashing  sounds,  mixed  with  shouts  and  laughter,  were 
heard  in  the  house,  the  men  returned,  rushing  down  the  ave 
nue  like  bedlam  broke  loose,  leaping  and  screaming  as  before, 
till,  reaching  their  wagon,  they  sprang  into  it,  and  drove  off 
with  reckless  speed,  scattering  a  shower  of  fire  from  the  clat 
tering  hoofs  of  their  steeds,  till  they  disappeared  in  the 
darkness. 

"  The  main  circumstances  of  this  story  were  afterward  ver 
ified  by  examination  of  the  ground,  where  the  deep  indenta 
tions  made  by  the  wagon-wheels,  the  horses'  hoofs,  and  the 
heavy  boxes,  long  remained  visible.  Nor  was  the  probability 
of  the  story  at  all  lessened  by  the  fact  that  the  extraordinary 
shouts  and  noises  described  by  the  young  men  were  not  heard 
by  others  who  might  be  supposed  within  ear-shot ;  neither  at 
Goodman  Ilobart's,  nor  even  by  the  housekeepers,  or  others 
in  the  mansion  itself;  for  this  only  proved  the  diabolical  na 
ture  of  the  whole  transaction,  as  it  was  well  known,  and 
afterwards  frequently  proved,  that  the  arch  enemy  can  con 
trol  the  laws  of  sound  when  it  suits  his  purposes.  Further 
insight,  amounting  in  many  minds  to  a  perfect  explanation 
of  the  matter,  was  derived  from  the  lady's  immediately 
launching  out  into  all  her  former  extravagance,  scattering 
money  with  ostentatious  profusion.  But  it  was  notorious 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  X  .  131 

that  those  who  received  her  money  were  not  able  to  retain 
it  long;  it  having  the  same  tendency  to  fly  lightly  away  as 
was  shown  when  tossed  through  the  air  by  the  demon 
porters. 

"  At  this  time,  Mr.  Raven,  having  become  acquainted  with 
Mr.  Levering  through  the  medium  of  his  child,  occasionally 
called  at  the  mansion.  Walking  in,  one  day,  unannounced, 
he  overheard  the  lady,  in  loud  tones,  urging  her  husband  to 
sign  some  writing,  against  which  he,  though  with  apparent 
irresolution,  objected.  As  Mr.  Raven  came  in  sight,  the 
lady  suddenly  retreated ;  but  he  could  see,  notwithstanding 
her  efforts  to  conceal  it,  that  she  carried  away  a  large  red 
book,  with  brass  clasps.  Mr.  Levering  welcomed  him  with 
evident  gladness,  as  if  suddenly  relieved  from  something  dis 
agreeable,  but  gave  no  intimation  of  the  temptation  with 
which,  in  Mr.  Haven's  opinion,  he  had  been  assailed.  Once 
or  twice,  indeed,  he  seemed  as  if  about  to  speak  on  some 
weighty  topic,  and  then  suddenly  changed  his  mind.  Mr. 
Raven  was  deeply  impressed  with  forebodings  of  some  im 
pending  calamity  to  the  house;  but,  as  he  could  obtain  no  clue 
to  the  subject,  he  discharged  his  duty  by  earnest  conversation 
with  Mr.  Levering  concerning  the  value  of  the  soul,  winding 
up  with  the  text,  '  Resist  the  devil,  and  he  will  flee  from  you.' 
Mr.  Levering  heard  with  attention,  but  with  no  sign  of  that 
deep  impression  which  Mr.  Raven  hoped  to  make. 

"This  was  in  the  autumn,  and  soon  afterward  Mr.  Raven 
retuVned  to  Cambridge  for  the  winter,  where  he  enjoyed  the 
instructions  of  the  reverend  president,  and  also  much  of 
the  companionship  of  his  son,  the  Rev.  Cotton  Mather,  then 
colleague  with  his  father  in  the  ministry  of  the  North  Church, 
in  Boston.  The  encouragement  and  guidance  of  these  learned 


182  WOLFSBEN. 

and  godly  ministers  was  of  the  utmost  benefit  to  him  in  pre 
paring  him  for  the  trials  and  conflicts  with  the  devil,  which 
he  was  shortly  to  encounter.  The  '  Remarkable  Providences ' 
of  the  elder  Mather,  giving  full  accounts  and  proofs  of  many 
cases  of  witchcraft,  was  then  a  work  of  standard  authority ; 
to  which  the  son  had  recently  added  his  book  of  '  Memorable 
Providences,'  relating  to  the  same  subject ;  both  of  which  Mr. 
Raven  studied  faithfully. 

"  No  events  of  note  occurred  at  Salem  village  during  that 
winter,  except  that  the  mysterious  stranger  was  several  times 
seen  near  the  mansion.  But  in  the  following  spring,  when 
Mr.  Raven  jreturned  and  renewed  his  visits  to  Mr.  Levering, 
he  was  struck  with  the  great  change  in  his  manner,  being 
much  more  reserved  and  gloomy  than  formerly ;  from  which 
Mr.  Raven  inferred  that  the  lady  had  prevailed  upon  him  to 
sign  the  '  Red  Book  with  Brazen  Clasps,'  the  diabolical  char 
acter  of  which  he  no  longer  doubted.  Mr.  Levering's  unea 
siness  and  impatience,  when  the  subject  was  approached,  was 
ample  confirmation  of  those  fears. 

"  One  day,  when  Mr.  Raven  was  passing  into  the  library 
of  Mr.  Levering,  he  heard  loud  talking  in  an  adjoining  room; 
and,  the  door  being  slightly  ajar,  he  saw  the  mysterious 
stranger,  whom  he  had  never  before  seen  but  at  a  distance, 
now  in  earnest  conversation  with  the  lady ;  the  earnestness, 
however,  being  mostly  on  her  part,  he  seeming  to  be  quite 
cool,  especially  when  we  consider  his  probable  character.  It 
was  only  a  part  of  the  conversation  he  heard,  yet  sufficient 
to  give  a  clue  to  the  whole.  '  I  tell  you,'  said  the  lady, 
'  'twas  for  twenty  years  —  for  twenty  years,  that  I  signed  the 
contract.'  '  And  I  tell  you,"  said  the  diabolical  gentleman, 
'  that  it  is  twenty  months  only ;  of  which  ten  are  already 


WOLFSDEN.  133 

past.  You  may  look  for  yourself,'  said  he,  producing  the 
identical  '  Red  Book.'  The  lady  glanced  at  a  page,  and  im 
mediately  assumed  an  attitude  of  horror  and  despair.  The 
diabolical  gentleman  calmly  reminded  her  that  it  was  no  use 
to  fret  about  what  could  n't  be  helped.  '  Besides,'  said  he, 
'  we  can  compromise  the  matter ;  —  only  get  me  a  couple 
more  good  signatures,  and  I  will  extend  the  bond  to  twenty 
years.' 

"  But  the  lady  sat  fixed  in  stony  rigidity,  as  though  she 
heard  him  not.  Then,  springing  from  the  sofa  with  a  pierc 
ing  shriek,  she  exclaimed,  '  O,  wretched  woman  !  0,  vile 
cheat ! '  intermingling  her  lamentations  with  the  fiercest  de 
nunciations,  and  all  the  time  springing  about  the  room  with 
hysterical  and  superhuman  energy,  so  that  her  head  nearly 
struck  against  the  ceiling  at  every  bound. 

"  While  thus  employed,  the  diabolical  gentleman  looked 
calmly  on,  with  malignant  satisfaction,  until,  the  lady's  energy 
being  exhausted,  she  sat  upon  the  floor  sobbing  convulsively, 
when  he  again  renewed  the  conversation,  telling  her  there 
was  no  need  of  so  much  fuss ;  the  case  was  not  so  bad,  after 
all;  he  was  willing  to  be  reasonable;  concluding  by  telling 
her  to  get  two  more  signatures,  and  the  writing  should  be 
made  to  read  her  own  way.  The  lady  reminded  him  that 
she  had  already  got  one  signature ;  to  which  he  assented,  but 
said  he  wanted  two  more.  The  conversation  then  subsided, 
so  that  the  reverend  listener  could  only  hear  disconnected 
words ;  from  which  he  inferred  that  the  contract,  whatever  it 
was,  was  being  remodelled ;  and,  hearing  the  word  '  children,' 
among  others,  he  easily  divined  the  nature  of  the  new  condi 
tions,  which  he  piously  resolved  to  prevent,  knowing  that  his 
12 


134  \V  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

warfare  with  the  '  Prince  of  Darkness '  was  now  approaching 
a  crisis. 

"  On  passing  into  the  library,  he  found  Mr.  Levering  qui 
etly  engaged  in  reading ;  and,  on  inquiry,  found  that  he  had 
been  no  way  alarmed,  having  not  even  heard  the  din  and 
uproar  in  the  room  so  nearly  adjoining  ;  of  which  being  in 
formed,  he  went  quickly  into  the  lady's  chamber,  but  found 
no  one  there,  save  the  lady  herself,  quietly  sewing.  The 
supernatural  character  of  the  event  was  thus  proved,  as  also 
the  fact  that  Satan  can  prevent  the  transmission  of  sounds,  to 
suit  his  purposes,  except  to  clerical  ears,  which  are  privileged 
to  hear,  in  spite  of  Satan  ;  for  which,  also,  Mr.  Haven  found 
warrant  in  the  text,  '  He  that  hath  ears  to  hear,  let  him 
hear ; '  which  he  interpreted  to  mean,  '  purged  or  ordained 
ears.' 

"  It  was  well  that  Mr.  Raven  was  thus  put  upon  guard 
against  the  plots  for  entrapping  the  souls  of  the  two  children  ; 
for  he  was  enabled,  that  very  evening,  to  rescue  young  Aza- 
riah  from  a  terrible  danger.  His  father  having  sent  him  on 
an  errand  to  a  remote  part  of  the  farm,  Mr.  Haven,  who  was 
sitting  in  an  open  window,  soon  heard  screams  and  cries  pro 
ceeding  from  that  quarter  ;  upon  which,  taking  a  Bible  under 
one  arm,  and  a  staff  in  his  hand,  he  proceeded  with  haste  in 
that  direction.  He  found  Azariah  quite  alone.  Upon  being 
questioned  about  the  sounds,  he  had  not  heard  them,  nor  seen 
any  one ;  but  Mr.  Haven  had  seen  a  shadowy  female  form 
gliding  through  some  bushes  near  a  fence,  which  quickly  ap 
peared  to  change  into  a  black  animal,  with  a  very  long  body, 
but  extremely  short  legs,  keeping  in  the  shadows  till  it  dis 
appeared.  Mr.  Raven  was  fully  convinced  that  his  timely 
appearance  had  saved  the  boy  from  a  dangerous,  if  not  fatal 


WOLFSDEN.  135 

temptation.  The  matter  was  laid  before  Mr.  Parris,  who 
agreed  that  it  required  active  care  and  watchfulness,  until 
some  decisive  measures  could  be  adopted.  Mr.  Levering  was 
also  warned  of  all  the  circumstances ;  and,  though  affecting 
to  disbelieve  their  diabolical  character,  and  solemnly  averring 
his  own  innocence  of  any  engagement  with  the  devil,  in  con 
firmation  of  which  he  repeated  perfectly  the  Lord's  prayer, 
which  no  one  who  has  signed  the  devil's  book  can  do,  yet  he 
engaged  to  watch  carefully  all  proceedings  in  his  own  house, 
and  especially  to  keep  little  Jane  always  in  his  sight,  except 
when  in  the  charge  of  the  trusty  Mrs.  Jenkins,  or  when  sleep 
ing  in  her  sainted  mother's  chamber,  from  which  the  lady 
always  kept  away. 

"  The  lady  and  her  associates,  in  league  with  the  powers 
of  darkness,  are  supposed  at  this  time  to  have  arranged  their 
plan  of  proceedings  on  a  larger  scale ;  her  first  effort  being 
doubtless  to  obtain  the  two  signatures,  which  were  partly 
overheard  by  Mr.  Raven  to  be  the  condition  of  prolonging 
her  own  term  to  twenty  years.  ^ 

"  It  was  on  a  gloomy  evening,  in  the  latter  part  of  March, 
about  a  week  after  the  last-mentioned  affair,  that  Mr.  Haven, 
who  had  been  all  day  pondering  upon  these  events,  while  sit 
ting  in  the  house  of  Mr.  Parris,  had  occasion  to  go  to  the 
outer  door.  It  was  very  dark  ;  it  had  been  snowing  or  rain 
ing  most  of  the  day,  and  a  thick  fog  had  settled  down  with 
nightfall  into  an  Egyptian  gloom.  Suddenly,  while  standing 
in  the  door,  he  heard  piercing  screams  and  cries  of  distress 
proceeding  from  a  northerly  direction,  and  seemingly  at  no 
great  distance.  Returning  immediately  to  the  house,  he 
armed  himself  with  his  Bible  and  staff,  as  before,  and,  with 
out  waiting  for  a  lantern,  hurried  in  the  direction  whence  the 


13G  WOLFSDEN. 

sounds  proceeded.  Immediately  he  felt  himself  partly  raised 
from  the  ground  by  an  invisible  power,  and  borne  in  the 
direction  of  the  sound  at  a  rapid  rate.  Although  it  had  been 
perfectly  calm  when  he  started,  the  wind  now  blew  in  his  face 
with  great  force,  but  not  at  all  impeding  his  progress.  His 
feet,  as  he  successively  raised  them  in  his  eager  haste,  ap 
peared  to  span  many  rods  of  ground  at  each  step,  and  always 
came  down,  though  in  perfect  darkness,  upon  smooth  and 
solid  ground,  though  he  knew  he  was  passing  where  no  road 
led,  and  though  the  ground  was  everywhere,  at  that  season^ 
rough  with  dissolving  ice  and  snow,  or  soft  and  miry ;  and  he 
afterwards  observed  that,  while  thus  impetuously  borne  along, 
the  text  revolved  in  his  mind  as  applicable  to  his  case,  '  And 
in^heir  hands  they  shall  bear  thee  up,  lest  at  any  time  thou 
dash  thy  foot  against  a  stone.' 

"  After  being  thus  rapidly  borne,  or  rather  impelled  along, 
for  the  space  of  an  hour,  the  invisible  power  left  him  stand 
ing  in  a  wild  and  solitary  place,  where  a  wonderful  and  ter 
rific  sight  was  spread  before  him.  A  large  space,  covering 
an  acre  or  more,  was  lighted  up  by  what  seemed  to  be  the 
mouths  of  innumerable  ovens,  from  which  murky  and  sul 
phurous  flames,  with  clouds  of  smoke,  were  belched  forth. 
Around,  in  a  wide  circle,  irregularly  enclosing  the  whole 
ground,  stood  giant  forms,  waving  their  arms,  and  brandishing 
strange  weapons.  These  appeared  to  be  the  sentinels  of  the 
infernal  camp.  Enclosed  within  their  magic  circle  were  in 
numerable  lesser  demons,  many  of  grotesque  deformity  and 
low  stature,  and  of  a  dark  color,  but  evidently  of  amazing 
strength,  all  still  and  silent,  and  waiting  as  if  for  some  word 
of  command.  In  scattered  groups  were  others,  all  of  like 
infernal  aspect,  engaged,  some  in  feeding  the  sulphurous 


WOLFSDEN.  137 

ovens,  or  pouring -fluids  into  huge  seething  caldrons,  and 
others  employed  in  strange  and  obscene  rites.  Near  the 
centre  was  elevated  an  altar,  on  which  were  spread  instru 
ments  of  incantation,  intermixed  with  various  vessels,  filled, 
no  doubt,  with  the  deadly  compounds  of  sorcery ;  and  among 
all  was  seen  the  lied  Book  with  Brazen  Clasps.  Yet  no  sounds 
proceeded  from  this  strange  assemblage,  except  now  and  then 
low  mutterings,  which  doubtless  were  the  secret  forms  and 
ceremonies  of  sorcery.  Near  the  altar  the  most  prominent 
in  this  scene  of  horrors,  a  monstrous  figure  was  seen.  Its 
form  could  not  be  clearly  discerned.  It  seemed  in  a  recum 
bent  or  prostrate  position,  like  a  huge  dragon,  of  which  the 
head  and  shoulders  were  uplifted,  while  the  body  lay  ex 
tended  for  a  great  distance  in  the  obscure  darkness.  Snaky 
heads  arose  on  twisted  and  spiral  necks  from  its  huge  shoul 
ders,  with  arms  and  claws  diverging  on  every  side.  It  seemed 
that  the  Prince  of  Darkness  had  taken  this  horrible  form 
for  some  more  than  common  infernal  purpose ;  or,  perhaps, 
this  was  the  very  gate  of  hell,  and  this  the  Evil  One  in  his  ac 
customed  form,  and  this  his  altar  where  his  worshippers  serve 
him  with  impious  rites.  But  who  can  describe  the  terror 
that  curdled  the  blood  of  the  man  of  God,  as  he  saw,  dimly 
indeed,  yet  so  plainly  that,  by  spiritual  aid,  he  could  clearly 
make  them  out,  a  group,  composed  of  the  diabolical  gentle 
man  already  so  well  known,  with  the  wretched  lady  of  the 
mansion,  and  the  two  children,  Azariah  and  Jane,  whom  their 
devilish  arts  had  inveigled,  or  their  supernatural  power 
(permitted  for  a  time  for  wise  purposes)  had  brought  hither. 

"  Mr.  Raven  now  understood  the  purpose  for  which,  in  this 
wonderful  manner,   he  was   brought  hither.      Single-handed 
and  alone,  he  was  appointed   to  confront  and  overthrow  the 
12* 


138  WOLFSDEN. 

camp  of  hell,  intrenched  upon  their  chosen  ground,  and  in  the 
moment  of  their  triumph.  The  peril  of  the  children  admitted 
of  no  delay.  'Should  such  a  man  as  I  flee?'  thought  he. 
Looking  upwards,  he  uttered  a  short  and  fervent  prayer, 
liaising  his  Bible  aloft  in  one  hand,  and  his  staff  in  the  other, 
he  rushed  forward,  exclaiming  aloud,  in  the  solemn  form  of 
adjuration,  which,  when  thus  authoritatively  spoken,  the 
powers  of  hell  can  never  resist,  '  IN  NOMINE  PATRIS,  FILII  ET 
SPIRITUS  SANCTI,  ADJURO  vos,  0  SATANAS,  ET  OMNES  DIABOLI, 

ABSCEDITE.' 

"  At  the  sound,  the  infernal  assembly  were  struck  with  a 
divine  terror ;  and,  as  the  hosts  of  the  Midianitcs  fled  when 
the  son  of  Joash  and  the  three  companies  of  valiant  men 
shouted  'The  sword  of  the  Lord  and  of  Gideon  '  (Judges  7  : 
20),  this  demoniac  host  shrank  back  in  terror,  and  started 
in  the  very  act  of  flight ;  when,  either  through  his  own  fault, 
in  not  taking  heed  to  his  way,  or,  more  likely,  from  the 
machinations  of  the  Enemy,  his  feet  stumbled,  and  he  fell. 

"  He  was  sorely  wounded  and  stunned  by  his  fall,  his  Bible 
and  staff  fell  from  his  hands,  and  the  Enemy,  taking  advantage 
of  his  unarmed  condition,  seized  him,  to  work  all  manner  of 
afflictions  upon  him,  even  as  they  were  permitted  to  use 
power  over  the  holy  Job,  not  touching  his  life. 

"  Four  strong  demons  seized  him,  and  bound  him  with 
thongs  to  a  sort  of  bier,  in  a  position  of  intolerable  pain,  so 
that  he  could  not  move,  while  hundreds,  nay,  thousands,  of 
infernal  creatures  danced  around,  with  exulting  outcries  and 
horrible  grimaces.  Overcome  with  pain  and  terror,  he  fell 
into  insensibility  ;  and,  when  again  restored  to  consciousness, 
he  found  himself  elevated  upon  a  throne,  and  covered,  in 
blasphemous  mockery,  with  the  impious  vestments  of  the  Pope, 


WOLFSDEN.  139 

that  whore  of  Babylon,  while  infernal  devotees  stood  around; 
some  offering  a  mock  worship,  and  others  holding  aloft  censers 
of  burning  incense,  and  idolatrously  bowing  toward  a  pyx, 
which  they  called  the  host,  and  pretended  to  adore ;  while 
others,  at  the  head  of  a  confused  procession,  bore  on  their 
shoulders  images  of  a  woman  and  child,  which  they  called  the 
Blessed  Virgin,  while  they  chanted  songs  of  praise  and  worship 
to  the  senseless  idols. 

"  He  attempted  to  shout  in  rebuke  of  this  blasphemous 
idolatry,  but  his  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth.  De 
termined  to  bear  no  part,  however  forced  and  involuntary,  in 
these  diabolical  rites,  he  heard  a  voice  speaking  in  his  ear, 
'  Come  out  of  her,  my  people,  that  ye  be  not  partakers  of  her 
sins,  and  that  ye  receive  not  her  plagues '  (Rev.  18 :  4). 
Thus  warned,  he  sprang  from  his  throne,  and  dashed  through 
the  surrounding  legions  toward  a  mountain  which  he  saw 
afar  off,  and  which  he  knew  to  be  the  mountain  of  the  Lord. 
As  he  ran,  the  whole  infernal  company,  determined  not  to  suffer 
him  to  escape,  pursued  aim  with  terrific  yells;  and,  though 
they  were  not  permitted  to  prevent  his  flight,  yet  they  had 
power  to  distract,  terrify,  and  mislead  him.  His  course  lay 
through  a  tangled  wilderness,  filled  with  thorns  and  poisonous 
plants,  and  infested  by  venomous  reptiles  and  winged  ser 
pents,  which  filled  the  air  and  covered  the  ground.  Doleful 
groans  and  shrieks  resounded  on  every  side,  and  the  soil 
seemed  like  sulphurous,  scorching  lava  beneath  his  feet. 
Creatures  of  human  form,  but  of  strange,  distorted  counte 
nances,  were  driven  hither  and  thither,  crossing  his  path  at 
every  step,  and  pursued  by  malignant  fiends,  with  whips 
of  scorpions.  An  intolerable  thirst  was  raging  within  him, 
and  in  all  that  dreary  region  no  cooling  water  might  be  found  ; 


140  WOLFSDEN. 

but  ever  and  anon  a  malignant  demon  at  his  side  tempted 
him  to  drink  of  a  cup  which  was  filled  with  the  wine  of 
abominations  and  the  blood  of  martyrs  (Rev.  IT  :  6).  Long 
and  tedious  was  the  flight,  and  fierce  and  unrelenting  the 
pursuit.  At  length,  from  the  opening  ground  fierce  blasts 
of  mingled  fire  and  smoke  belched  forth,  blinding  his  eyes 
and  suffocating  his  breath  ;  and  he  felt  himself  lifted  and 
borne  aloft  amid  rolling  and  sulphurous  clouds,  from  which 
dim  lightnings  flashed  forth,  to  show  the  interminable  horrors 
of  the  scene.  He  felt  that  this  was  the  hour  of  the  Prince 
of  the  Power  of  the  Air,  and  that  he  himself  was  now  roaming 
through  the  regions  of  despair,  from  which  he  saw  no  way  of 
escape.  Soon  he  felt  himself  cast  into  a  deep  labyrinth  of 
perplexed  and  devious  paths,  where,  at  great  distances,  in  each 
he  could  see  a  dazzling  light,  while  around  him  was  utter 
darkness.  Yet,  as  he  attempted  to  follow  the  light,  it  fled 
before  him,  and  other  lights  in  other  paths  tempted  him  to 
new  pursuits,  each  flying  and  deluding  him  with  fruitless 
toil. 

"  Suddenly  he  felt  himself  immerged  in  a  lake  of  slimy 
water,  offensive  and  revolting.  He  could  feel  no  bottom  with 
his  feet;  yet  he  was  borne  up  in  it.  He  attempted  to 
struggle  through  it,  but  monsters  beneath  held  his  limbs  with 
firm  grasp.  A  brooding  darkness  overspread  him,  and  he 
felt  that  the  power  of  death  was  upon  him.  Long  was  the 
time,  yet  not  measured  by  days  or  weeks ;  for  in  that  dreary 
region  there  is  no  sun,  that  there  should  be  days,  and  no 
blessed  Sabbath,  that  there  should  be  weeks. 

"  At  length,  ere  he  was  aware,  he  found  himself  upon  a 
strange  and  desolate  shore.  Ripe  clusters  of  golden  fruits 
hung  pendent  from  over-spreading  scathed  and  scraggy 


WOLFSDEN.  141 

branches,  and  lay  scattered  upon  the  flinty  sand.  Yet  when 
he  gathered  and  tasted,  he  found  only  ashes  in  his  mouth ; 
they  ivere  the  fruits  of  the  land  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah. 
Beyond  these  were  steep  and  flinty  mountains,  where  were  the 
ruins  of  the  dwellings  of  the  Edomites,  whose  bones  still  lay 
bleaching  in  the  sun  ;  yet  no  living  beast,  or  bird,  or  creeping 
thing,  passed  over  it  —  all  was  utter  desolation.  Long  and 
dreary  was  his  journeying  among  these  barren  mountains, 
and  amid  these  valleys  of  dry  bones.  He  felt  that  he  himself 
was  but  a  walking  skeleton,  and  that  the  dry  bones,  the  flesh- 
less  jaws  and  eyeless  skulls,  were  his  companions  ;  yet,  when 
he  would  converse  with  them,  they  answered  him  but  with 
uncouth  sounds  and  unmeaning  words, —  for  they  were  peo 
ple  of  a  strange  language. 

"  Then  he  fell  into  a  deep  sleep  ;  and  when  he  awaked  the 
power  of  evil  enchantments  had  passed  away,  and  he  found 
himself,  how  conveyed  he  knew  not,  lying  upon  the  bed  in  his 
chamber,  in  the  house  of  his  hospitable  friend,  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Parris,  weak  and  emaciated,  but  surrounded  by  the  familiar 
faces  of  anxious  friends. 

"  It  shows  the  wonderful  and  inconceivable  power  which 
evil  spirits  are  sometimes  permitted  to  exercise,  that  these 
guardian  friends,  including  the  Rev.  Mr.  Parris  himself,  were 
all  unaware  of  the  perils,  and  wanderings,  and  fiery  trials,  to 
which  their  poor  friend  had  been  exposed,  and  from  which  ho 
had  come  off  victorious,  though  sorely  wounded  and  weak 
ened  ;  but  believed  him  to  have  been  for  many  weeks  under 
their  care,  in  the  delirium  of  a  fever.  His  form  was  doubt 
less  simulated  by  the  Father  of  Lies,  while  he  himself  was 
thus  subjected  to  the  infernal  power. 

"  The  end  of  this  series  of  horrible  events  was  now  approach- 


142  WOLFSDEN. 

l 

ing.  Mr.  Raven  had  been  for  several  weeks  convalescent,  and 
the  summer  was  far  advanced,  with  the  approaching  end  of 
the  twenty  months  which  was  the  limit  of  the  wretched  lady's 
bond,  which  she  could  only  have  extended  by  betraying  new 
/victims  to  Satan's  power,  and  which  she  had  been  prevented 
from  doing  by  the  providential  interference  of  Mr.  Haven.  It 
might  therefore  be  expected  that  the  diabolical  gentleman 
would  soon  claim  his  own ;  and  so  it  fell  out. 

•i'  It  was  a  sultry  day  in  August,  when  the  lady,  who  had 
all  the  summer  been  gloomy  and  reserved,  ordered  the  coach 
for  a  distant  ride.  She  was  doubtless  aware  of  the  impossi 
bility  of  escaping  her  impending  fate,  and  her  pride  dictated 
that  the  scene  of  her  humiliation  and  woe  should  be  remote 
from  the  scenes  of  former  triumph  and  enjoyment.  As  the 
carriage  was  descending  a  hill  in  the  north  part  of  the  town, 
a  thick  mass  of  clouds  rolled  over  the  sky,  darkening  the  sun, 
and  involving  all  nature  in  awful  gloom.  The  howling  winds 
were  let  loose,  and  the  forests  rocked  beneath  their  terrible 
rage.  Sheeted  lightnings  filled  the  murky  vault  of  heaven 
with  awful  brightness,  subsiding  anon  into  ten-fold  gloom.  The 
thunder  was  heard,  now  remote  and  now  nearer,  like  chariot- 
wheels  of  divine  wrath.  A  fierce  torrent  of  driving  rain 
poured  from  the  windows  of  heaven ;  the  beasts  of  the  field 
and  the  birds  of  the  air  fled  for  covert  from  the  tempest. 

"  In  the  midst  of  this  awful  scene,  when  all  nature  seemed 
about  to  dissolve  in  ruin,  there  was  a  crash,  as  if  all  the  ar 
tillery  of  heaven  and  hell  had  burst  in  simultaneous  outroar. 
Looking  towards  the  north,  the  villagers  beheld,  coming  with 
frightful  speed,  the  terrified  horses,  dragging  the  pole  and  a 
portion  of  the  carriage  in  which  the  ill-fated  lady  had  rode 
forth.  Hastening  in  the  direction  of  the  hill,  —  for  now  the 


WOLFSDEX.  143 

storm  had  passed  away,  —  they  beheld  an  awful  sight.  The 
coachman  was  thrown  beside  the  way,  sorely  bruised,  and 
bewailing  his  condition.  A  little  beyond,  the  blackened  corse 
of  the  lady  was  seen.  The  fires  of  heaven  or  of  hell  had 
blasted  her  form,  and  in  one  hour  her  great  riches  were  come 
to  naught  (Rev.  18  :  17).  'And  they  arose  and  took  up  her 
body,  and  carried  it  forth  to  her  own  house  ;  and  great  fear 
fell  upon  the  church,  and  upon  as  many  as  heard  these  things ' 
(Acts  5  :  11).  And  the  matter  was  improved  to  great  edifica 
tion  by  the  preaching  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Parris,  aided  by  tho 
llev.  Mr.  Raven,  whose  experience  in  the  affair  had  been  so 
wonderful.  But  many  Sadducees  mocked  and  reviled  thereat, 
for  which  they  afterward  suffered  grievous  punishments ;  and 
some,  being  convicted  of  witchcraft,  were  justly  condemned. 
And  to  CJod  be  all  the  praise.  Amen." 

"  This  being  the  end  of  the  story,  according  to  the  manu 
script,  Cousin  Helen  will  have  to  supply  her  part  from  other 
sources." 

(Helen.)  "  The  closing  part  of  the  story,  as  given  by 
Cousin  Hezekiah,  speaks  of  the  Sadducees  who  derided  the 
account.  Those  who  disbelieved  in  witchcraft  at  that  time 
were  called  Sadducees,  by  the  Mathers  and  other  believers,  in 
reference  to  the  Sadducees  spoken  of  in  the  New  Testament, 
who  believed  neither  in  the  resurrection,  nor  angels,  nor 
spirits. 

"  The  manuscript  from  which  the  story  is  taken  is  accom 
panied  with  a  written  envelope  of  a  somewhat  later  date,  from 
which  it  is  ascertained  that  the  llev.  Mr.  Raven  was  consid 
ered  to  have  partly  deranged  his  mind  by  too  close  attention 
to  the  mysterious  subjects  of  which  he  treats ;  and,  though 
an  ordained  minister,  and  considered  a  fine  writer  and  ear- 


144  WOLFSDEN. 

nest  speaker,  he  was  never  intrusted  with  the  care  of  a  parish, 
but  finally  fell  into  obscurity. 

"  Those  who  attempted  to  account  for  his  discoveries  and 
statements  in  a  common  way,  suppose  that  the  conversation 
between  the  lady  of  the  mansion  and  the  diabolical  gentleman 
referred  only  to  worldly  business ;  and  that  the  diabolical 
gentleman  was  not  really  an  infernal  being,  but  only  an  attor 
ney  intrusted  with  the  management  of  some  bonds,  or  other 
legal  papers. 

"  The  lady's  extraordinary  calisthenic  exercises  were  prob 
ably  exaggerated  by  Mr.  Raven's  excited  imagination,  aided 
by  his  imperfect  vision  through  the  crack  of  a  door,  or  possi 
bly  a  keyhole  ;  and  the  extraordinary  noises  and  screams,  heard 
on  that  and  other  occasions  by  himself  only,  were  probably 
disturbances  in  his  own  brain.  The  story  of  Dick  Furlong 
and  Harry  Wilder,  concerning  the  demon  porters  and  their 
load,  was  received  with  some  grains  of  allowance,  even  at  the 
time,  on  account  of  their  known  propensity  to  a  certain  license 
in  narrative  called  '  drawing  the  long  bow.' 

"  Concerning  the  extraordinary  meeting  of  witches  and 
devils,  it  is  stated  that  a  few  people  were  quietly  engaged  in  the 
process  of  making  maple-sugar  in  a  grove,  when  Mr.  Haven 
suddenly  burst  among  them  in  the  manner  described.  The  giant 
sentinels  might  have  been  trees  seen  imperfectly  in  the  darkness. 
The  shapeless  and  silent  demons  were  stumps  and  bushes ;  the 
sulphurous  ovens  and  seething  caldrons  were  the  sap-kettles 
and  fires  beneath  them  ;  the  altar,  with  its  infernal  furniture, 
was  a  rude  table  with  a  few  dishes ;  the  extended  dragon, 
with  upraised  snaky  heads  and  claws,  was  the  upturned  roots 
and  body  of  an  overblown  tree ;  and  the  book,  with  brazen 
clasps,  but  an  addition  of  the  imagination. 


WOLFSDEN.  145 

"  When  Mr.  Raven  stumbled  and  fell,  as  he  described,  he 
was  recognized,  and  borne  senseless  to  the  house  of  his  pro 
tector,  nearly  two  miles,  where  he  lay  lor  many  weeks  in  a 
delirious  fever,  the  consequence  of  his  exposure  and  fall,  act 
ing  upon  a  frame  already  weakened  and  deranged  by  strong 
nervous  excitement. 

"  The  lady's  fate  was  much  as  he  described  it,  for  she  was 
either  struck  by  the  lightning,  or  thrown  from  the  carriage 
and  killed  from  the  fright  of  the  horses  by  the  flash  ;  but  the 
coincidence  of  the  twenty  months  is  subject  to  the  suspicion 
of  all  prophecy  which  is  recorded  only  after  its  fulfilment. 
At  any  rate,  the  grounds  for  supposing  the  lady  a  witch  are 
much  narrowed  by  a  close  review  of  all  the  circumstances ; 
and  the  most  reliable  fact  of  the  whole  story  is  that  Azariah 
and  Jane  grew  up,  loved  each  other,  were  married,  and  inher 
ited  the  old  mansion  many  years,  and  in  the  lapse  of  time 
became  the  great-grandparents  of  Cousin  Hezekiah  and  many 
other  Hobarts." 

Mrs.  Simperkins,  being  almost  the  only  juvenile  who  had 
not  contributed  to  the  round  of  stories,  was  next  called  upon  ; 
and,  being  suitably  urged,  and  her  diffidence  suitably  overcome, 
and  especially  being  prompted  by  an  encouraging  word  from 
the  divinity  student,  commenced  her  relation.  She  proceeded 
to  "vex  our  ears  with  her  old  story  of  how,  when  a  resident  of 
London,  in  her  youthful  days  (about  ten  years  ago),  she  be 
came  the  victim  of  misplaced  confidence  in  a  certain  some 
what  unscrupulous  though  exceeding  high-bred  COUNT  FLIP- 
PERTON,  who  adroitly  obtained  possession  of  property  belonging 
to  her  employer,  and  left  in  her  care,  and  also  of  a  very  valu 
able  bracelet  belonging  to  herself.  We  have  scruples  about 
appropriating  the  story,  which  is  still  her  chief  capital  in  the 
13 


146  WOLFSDEN. 

line  of  anecdote,  lest  we  also  should  share  the  odium  which 
Count  Flipperton's  conduct  so  justly  merits ;  but,  if  her  con 
sent  can  be  obtained,  the  story  will  be  given  in  the  appendix. 

Meantime  it  may  promote  the  ends  of  justice  to  give  her 
description  of  the  stolen  bracelet.  '  Hit  was  ha  werry  walu- 
able  hunique,"  being  made  of  gold  and  diamonds,  with  a  cen 
tral  brilliant,  or  star,  of  a  single  diamond,  with  rays  of  dif 
ferent  costly  gems,  pointed  with  diamonds.* 

While  Mrs.  Simperkins  was  going  on  with  her  story,  the 
girls,  who  had  heard  it  half  a  dozen  times  before,  were  pre 
paring  for  departure  ;  and  Ann  having  whispered  to  Ike  and 
Alek,  they  and  Josiah  Brown  had  silently  withdrawn  to  pre 
pare  the  sleighs,  and  soon  all  were  jingling  merrily  at  the 
door.  The  company  were  soon  cloaked  and  hooded,  all  but 
Amy  and  the  adjutant,  both  of  whom  had  been  asleep  an 
hour,  and  were  now  snugly  stowed  away ;  —  the  adjutant  to 
occupy  the  space  between  Billy  and  Tommy  in  their  bed,  and 
Amy  to  nestle  by  the  side  of  Fanny.  Josiah  Brown  evi 
dently  did  not  think  the  departure  a  very  sad  one,  perhaps 
because  he  had  secured  the  privilege  of  taking  Ann  to  her 
home  in  his  sleigh.  In  fact,  nobody  seemed  sad;  —  it  was  a 
merry  night,  though  the  last  of  the  year.  Merrily  pranced  the 
horses  through  the  snow.  Merrily  jingled  the  bells.  Merrily 
laughed  the  light-hearted  group.  Merrily  twinkled  the  stars, 
looking  out,  from  their  bright  heaven  above,  upon  the  bright 
earth  below. 

*  Any  reader  who  may  obtain  information  of  a  jewel  of  this  descrip 
tion,  or  of  Count  Flipperton,  may  communicate  with  the  author  through 
the  publishers,  or  by  a  line  directed  to  J.  B.,  care  of  Alexander  Arbor, 
Esq.,  Wolfsden.  And  if  this  should  meet  the  eyes  of  Count  Flipperton, 
he  is  requested  to  return  the  property,  as  above,  and  no  questions  will 
bo  asked. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 


SLEEP  rests  upon  the  peaceful  dwelling  of  the  deacon's 
family,  and  all  the  house  is  still,  save  the  measured  and 
stately  ticking  of  the  ancient  clock,  which  counts  off  in  solemn 
numberings  the  last  steps  of  the  departing  year.  The  cricket, 
too,  trills  forth  its  clainvto  a  place  in  the  list  of  living  things. 
The  deserted  kitchen  still  glows  with  hospitable  warmth  and 
soft  light,  shed  from  the  solid  mass  of  living  coals,  into  which 
the  huge  logs  have  subsided.  Beneath  the  table  lies  the 
shaggy  Lion,  dreaming  of  sports  and  battles  past,  and  often 
moving  his  feet  in  imaginary  chase.  Near  his  side,  in  long- 
tried  companionship,  purrs  the  confiding  cat.  Peace  and 
sleep  rest  upon  all  the  house. 

In  their  snug  bed,  with  their  fair  foreheads  just  discernible 
above  the  folded  blankets,  little  Amy  nestles  in  the  arms  of 
Fanny,  as  tho  bud  nestles  by  the  side  of  the  opening  rose. 
Lovely  incarnations  of  beauty  and  goodness,  thus  ever  in  tho 
protecting  embrace  of  love  and  happiness  may  ye  grow  and 
ripen  to  your  destined  immortality  !  Tommy,  and  Billy,  and 
the  adjutant,  are  sleeping  recklessly  and  determinedly,  as  if 
each  were  resolved  to  outdo  the  other.  Each  has  a  half-defi 
ant  brow,  and  a  fist  half  closed ;  and  each,  by  his  earnest 
breathing,  seems  half  provoked  to  burst  into  a  snore. 


148  Vf  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

Alek  had  invited  the  schoolmaster  to  share  his  bed.  So 
many  visitors  require  some  doubling,  and  the  cold  night  also 
favors  it.  The  schoolmaster  composed  himself  tranquilly, 
but  Alek's  pillow  was  not  so  easy.  Thoughts  which  serve  no 
purpose  of  thinking,  broken,  confused,  tumultuous,  undefined 
yet  intense,  swift  yet  coming  to  no  conclusion,  excited  and 
harassed  his  brain.  In  vdin  he  invoked  his  firm  will,  and 
commanded  his  distracting  thoughts  to  peace.  His  very 
efforts  at  self-command  awakened  to  more  activity  the  busy 
machinery  of  the  brain.  The  excited  current  of  his  blood 
rushed  through  all  the  channels  of  thought,  and  drove  in 
rapid  evolutions  the  wheels  of  the  mind.  He  commanded  his 
eyelids  to  close,  and  they  obeyed ;  yet  he  was  cheated  of  his 
will,  for  the  eyeballs  swelled  and  threw  off  their  accustomed 
covering. 

If  he  were  alone,  he  would  arise  and  escape  from  his  con 
finement.  If  he  could  now,  in  the  bright  moonlight,  plunge 
through  the  snow  into  the  forest,  with  Lion  for  his  company, 
how  welcome  would  be  the  effort  to  his  excited  mood  !  If  he 
could  change  the  conflict  within  to  a  war  with  the  elements, 
or  with  the  bears  and  wolves  without,  there  would  be  relief 
in  that.  13ut  he  could  not  escape,  for  he  would  not  disturb 
his  bedfellow,  or  allow  his  inquietude  to  be  suspected.  And 
so  he  lay  in  resolute  silence. 

He  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  window,  where  the  curdling 
frost  had  marked  its  fantastic  tracery,  now  glittering  in  the 
silver  light  of  the  moon.  In  fancy  he  saw  there  the  allegor 
ical  panorama  of  his  life.  He  gave  fancy  the  rein,  and  fol 
lowed  her  visionary  flight.  She  guided  him  through  dense 
forests,  bright  with  dazzling  but  uncertain  light.  His  path 
'ed  along  a  precipitous  and  dangerous  way,  into  unknown 


WOLFSDEN.  149 

scenes.  A  city  rose  around  him.  Magnificent  and  busy 
streets  crossed  each  other  in  endless  confusion.  Rivers, 
parks,  villages,  and  splendid  mansions,  filled  the  back-ground. 
An  ocean,  speckled  with  islands  and  adorned  Hith  tall-masted 
ships,  stretched  beyond.  On  the  hither  side,  near  his  primi 
tive  forest,  was  a  falling  castle.  It  recalled  to  his  mind  his 
own  story,  and  Margaret's  veiled  advice  in  its  conclusion,  and 
he  mentally  repeated  it.  "  I  will  explore,  and  only  fix  my 
habitation  when  I  have  skill  to  choose  wisely,  and  can  be  well 
assured  of  my  title." 

How  still  and  cold  shines  the  moon  upon  the  glittering 
tracery  of  the  frosty  windows  !  How  slow  and  solemn  the 
distant  ticking  clock  measures  off  the  steps  of  the  departing 
year !  Peace  and  sleep  rest  not  on  all,  even  in  the  deacon's 
quiet  dwelling. 

In  the  parlor  chamber,  devoted  through  successive  genera 
tions  to  ostentatious  neatness  and  elegance,  where  a  carpet 
woven  of  variegated  list  and  yarn  covers  all  the  centre  of 
the  floor,  and  approaches  to  the  walls,  —  where  the  painted 
chairs,  and  shining  chest  of  drawers,  and  gilded  looking-glass, 
reflect  the  brightness,  but  show  not  the  rust,  of  their  fifty 
years,  —  there,  in  the  high-post  bed,  surrounded  by  snow- 
white  curtains,  rest  Hezekiah  and  Harry.  To  them,  who 
unite  the  claims  of  scholarship  and  strangerhood,  is  this  dainty 
chamber  appropriated  ;  and  very  well  do  they  seem  to  enjoy 
it.  Hezekiah  has  already  subsided  into  a  calm  and  happy 
slumber.  The  course  of  his  true  love  runs  smooth.  It  needs 
not  watching,  —  well  and  peacefully  may  he  sleep. 

But  Harry  seems  not  to  care  for  sleep.  He  can  dream 
without  the  aid  of  sleep,  and  dreaming  is  now  his  delight. 
He  dreams  that  he  is  in  the  house  where  angels  dwell.  The 
13* 


150  WOLFSDEN. 

brightness  of  one  is  reflected  upon  the  others,  and  all  are 
angels.  He  feels  it  reflected  upon  himself,  and  he  partakes 
of  the  angelhood.  How  easy  in  such  society  to  become  an 
gelic  !  He  win  henceforth  discard  the  grossness  and  folly  of 
earthly  life,  and  commence  now,  in  the  brightness  of  his 
youth,  a  life  of  transcendental  aspirations  and  enjoyments. 

His  eyes  are  fixed  on  the  window  where  the  bright  moon 
silvers  the  frosty  tracery.  How  fantastic,  and  yet  how  regu 
lar  and  beautiful,  are  the  outlines  sculptured  there !  Castles 
and  cathedrals  with  pointed  turrets,  churches  with  tall  spires, 
landscapes  stretching  in  interminable  perspective,  oceans  with 
opposing  navies,  islands  with  enchanting  groves,  —  groves 
where  love  and  innocence  might  wander  hand  in  hand,  where 
a  bower  might  be  built  in  which  an  angel  might  reside,  where 
domestic  bliss  might  grve  new  interest  to  the  loveliness  of  the 
scenery. 

Only  with  restrained  and  guarded  thoughts  let  us  approach 
the  chamber  where  sleep  the  beloved  of  those  whom  we  now 
leave  and  commend  to  rest.  Side  by  side,  in  quiet  innocence, 
Helen  and  Margaret  repose.  Helen  lies  in  profound  sleep. 
Gently  and  scarce  perceptibly  rises  and  falls  the  drapery  of 
her  pure  and  peaceful  breast.  Gently,  with  even  and  tran 
quil  beat,  her  pulse  measures  off  the  moments  of  her  well- 
employed  and  happy  life.  The  course  of  her  true  life  and 
true  love  runs  smooth.  Peaceful  and  sweet  be  her  sleep  ! 

But  why  does  that  other  heart  beat  less  tranquilly  ?  And 
why,  as  if  compelling  sleep  to  her  eyes,  does  she  compress 
their  fringed  lids  till  tears  distil  upon  her  pillow  ?  She  lies 
in  seeming  quiet ;  yet  her  mind  rests  not.  Conflicting  emo 
tions  disturb  her  peace.  She  is  fighting  the  battle  of  life. 
She  calls  up  every  worthy  resolve,  and  determines  to  conquer 


WOLFSDEN.  151 

herself.  Could  she  arise  and  go  forth,  that  her  body  might 
share  the  struggle  of  her  thoughts,  it  would  be  a  relief;  but 
she  is  constrained  to  stillness  and  silence,  for  her  emotion 
must  not  be  suspected.  She  opens  her  eyes  and  gazes  upon 
the  frosty  window.  Its  figured  outlines  seem  to  represent 
the  path  of  life.  Here  mountains  rise  in  forbidding  grand 
eur,  and  oppose  insurmountable  barriers  ;  there  yawning 
precipices  wait  for  unwary  feet ;  a  cold,  stern,  and  rough 
acclivity  stretches  between  into  the  interminable  and  un 
known  distance,  —  interminable  and  unknown,  perhaps  soli 
tary  and  sad.  Yet  it  is  the  path  where  pride  and  duty  and 
prudence  point ;  and  it  is  the  path  she  will  pursue.  Sleep 
and  peace  rest  not  upon  all,  even  in  this  tranquil  home. 

Yet  the  night  wanes  on  ;  the  stately  clock  measures  off,  in 
solemn  numberings,  the  last  steps  of  the  departing  year.  Soon 
the  hammer  strikes  its  measured  strokes  upon  the  clear,  ring 
ing  bell. 

Departed  year,  adieu  !  the  last, 
Last  sand  that  measured  thy  career 

Is  gone  ;  the  records  of  the  past 
Alone  aro  thine,  departed  year  ! 


CHAPTER    IX  . 


SLOWLY  moves  the  mighty  panorama  across  the  silent  sky. 
The  constellations  which  gem  the  brow  of  night  decline  in 
the  west,  for  a  dawning  glory  glimmers  in  the  east,  and  the 
morning  star  heralds  the  day.  From  his  high  perch  Chanti 
cleer  sends  forth  his  morning  summons.  Soon  from  the  chim 
ney-top  ascends  a  wreathed  column  to  the  sky,  and  from  the 
kitchen  windows  the  red  light  of  the  blazing  fire  within 
throws  its  glare  over  the  snowy  landscape.  The  long  row  of 
patient  cattle,  lying  in  their  stalls,  lazily  uprise  and  stretch 
their  strong  limbs,  as  they  hear  the  approaching  feet,  and  the 
opening  of  doors  by  the  hand  that  feeds  them.  The  horses 
whinny  their  welcome,  and  expect  their  reward.  Down  from 
their  perches  fly  the  feathered  flock.  All  claim  their  share 
from  the  abundant  granary,  and  have  their  claim  allowed. 
Around  the  cheerful  fires  come,  from  their  deserted  beds,  by 
ones,  by  twos,  and  by  threes,  the  sleepers  of  the  preceding 
night ;  the  rising  sun  finds  no  sluggard  there.  It  was  the 
mother's  maxim  that  the  Sabbath's  true  rest  is  not  a  self- 
indulgent  sluggishness,  but  a  permitted  refreshment  to  the 
body,  that  the  mind  may  arise  to  its  higher  exercises  of 
thought  and  devotion,  to  favor  which  domestic  cares  and 


WOLFSDEN.  153 

duties  must  be  promptly  and  seasonably  discharged,  that  all 
may  share  in  Sabbath  benefits  to  their  full  extent. 

Bright  and  cheerful  were  the  morning  faces  of  the  family 
circle,  and  kind  and  true  the  greetings  of  the  happy  new  year. 
If  there  were  troubled  and  anxious  hearts  beneath  any  of 
those  smiling  and  cordial  countenances,  their  secret  burthens 
were  unknown  to  others,  for  every  face  seemed  radiant  with 
happy  content.  Noble  and  generous  hearts  diifuse  their  own 
cheerfulness,  but  suppress  and  conceal  their  sorrows  and 
fears. 

Harry  had  determined  upon  a  line  of  conduct  at  once  gen 
erous,  sentimental,  and  discreet.  He  will  not  betray,  even  in 
thought,  the  kind  hospitality  he  enjoys ;  but  will  substitute 
friendship,  warm  and  earnest,  but  unaspiring,  for  love.  His 
heart,  enlarged  and  filled  with  tender  enthusiasm,  reflects  its 
light  on  every  object,  and  sees  beauty,  goodness,  and  worth, 
in  every  face.  Even  in  Mrs.  Simperkins'  self-complacent 
smirks  and  affectations  he  sees  only  an  amiable  desire  to 
please,  where  the  motive  should  excuse  the  mistakes.  Tow 
ards  Alek  his  friendship  particularly  expands,  partly  because 
he  sees  and  feels  his  worth,  partly  in  atonement  for  the  invol 
untary  injury  which  he  feels  half  conscious  of  having  inflicted, 
and  partly  because  in  loving  Margaret,  as  he  now  represented 
to  himself,  with  a  pure  platonic  love,  he  must  needs  love  those 
most  nearly  allied  to  her.  Thus,  though  agitated  by  a  deep 
emotion,  which  might  otherwise  have  manifested  itself  to  ob 
servant  eyes,  he  managed  to  preserve  the  balance  of  his  mind 
and  the  propriety  of  his  conduct,  and  confirm  the  good  impres 
sions  he  had  already  made.  Alek  was  the  first  and  the  most 
earnest  to  praise  the  noble  endowments  of  the  young  visitor, 
whom  he  had  so  little  reason  to  thank  for  coming ;  but  Alek 


154  WOLFSDEN. 

had  already  determined  to  yield  to  his  adverse  fate  with  the 
good  grace  which  his  manly  pride  demanded.  His  heart  was 
sore,  but  that  was  good  reason  why  he  should  compel  it  to 
rest.  His  self-appreciating  thought  suggested  the  desire  to 
gain  for  himself  the  cultivation  which  gave-  Harry  such 
advantages.  His  former  good  opinion  of  his  own  merits  was 
very  much  unsettled ;  but  his  confidence  in  what  he  might 
become  was  strong.  Appreciating  and  admiring  his  successful 
rival,  he  was  very  ready  to  receive  and  reciprocate  his  friend 
ship  ;  so  that,  actuated  by  different  motives,  and  neither  under 
standing  the  other,  they  became  fast  friends. 

Poor  Margaret  seemed  the  chief  probable  sufferer  by  this 
new  interchange  of  affinities.  The  capricious  power,  which 
binds  and  loosens  the  fetters  of  the  soul  at  his  will,  had  sev 
ered  the  early  and  long-accustomed  ties  which  bound  one 
manly  heart  to  do  her  homage,  while  the  one  who  could  have 
repaid  the  desertion  with  far  more  welcome  devotion  was 
withheld,  by  honorable  respect  for  the  other's  superior  claims, 
from  making  advances.  But  she  had  schooled  her  mind  to 
the  strict  discipline  of  maidenly  reserve,  and  if  she  threw  a 
veil  over  her  deeper  emotions,  we  have  no  right  to  remove  it. 

The  schoolmaster  held  conversation  with  Harry,  and  was 
pleased  with  his  diversity  of  knowledge,  propriety  of  senti 
ment,  and  elegance  of  expression ;  for  Harry  knew  how  to 
acquit  himself  creditably  when  in  contact  with  well-informed 
minds,  as  he  knew  how  to  shine  among  the  volatile  and  frivo 
lous.  To  the  latter  society  he  had  been  too  much  addicted ; 
but  now  his  feelings,  and  the  current  of  his  mind,  ran  in  more 
serious  and  reflective  mood,  and  added  a  thoughtful  dignity  to 
his  manner  and  conversation. 

Mrs.  Simperkins  was  all  respect,  reverence,  and  obsequious? 


WOLFSDEN.  155 

ness,  towards  the  "  divinity  student,"  whose  good  looks  and 
polite  behavior,  in  preferring  her  conversation,  and  talking 
Latin  and  Greek  to  her,  rather  than  to  others,  had  so  per 
fectly  proved  his  piety  and  discrimination.  Uncle  Lemuel 
and  Aunt  Nabby  were  well  pleased  with  his  popularity,  and 
glad  that  they  had  brought  so  acceptable  an  addition  to  their 
society,  though  they  hardly  knew  how  to  reply  to  Mrs.  Sim- 
perkins'  earnest  assurances  of  his  wonderful  piety  and  spiritual 
gifts.  The  younger  fry,  with  whom,  and  Alek,  he  had  already 
visited  the  barn,  and  there  delighted  them  with  some  practical 
jokes  and  gymnastic  feats,  had  voted  him  a  jolly  fellow,  and 
earnestly  invited  him  to  stay  all  winter,  with  glowing  prom 
ises  of  infinite  fun  in  sliding  down  hill  and  skating  upon  the 
ice ;  so  that  Harry  was  now,  as  usual,  on  the  high  tide  of 
popular  favor. 

Breakfast  ended,  family  worship  was  performed,  as  usual. 
The  members  of  the  family,  including  visitors,  read  the  Scrip 
tures,  which  the  deacon  occasionally  explained.  In  prayer, 
the  deacon  knelt  with  such  members  of  his  family,  and  such 
visitors,  as  professed  religion ;  while  others  were  expected  to 
stand  in  reverent  silence.  Such  is  the  custom  in  Wolfsden, 
and  all  that  region  ;  so  that  to  kneel  in  prayer-time  is  equiv 
alent  to  a  profession  of  religion.  Harry,  whose  religious 
training  had  been  Episcopalian,  with  whom  all,  whether  saints 
or  sinners,  kneel  and  respond,  was  quite  unaware  of  this  dis 
tinction,  and  therefore  knelt  with  the  deacon  ;  and,  at  the  close 
of  his  prayer,  innocently  responded  amen.  He  intended  only 
good  manners,  but  was  at  once  set  down  by  all  the  family  as  a 
professor  of  religion,  and  therefore  entitled  to  be  treated  with 
more  gravity  than  a  mere  worldling.  Billy  and  Tommy,  re 
membering  his  funny  feats  in  the  barn,  and  that,  too,  of  a 


156  WOLFSDEN. 

Sabbath  morning,  thought  it  a  new  sort  of  religion  ;  and  as 
it  came  enforced  by  so  good  authority,  and  was  much  more  in 
conformity  with  their  sentiments  than  the  Sabbath  strictness 
which  they  had  been  compelled  to  keep,  they  concluded  to 
recommend  the  change  to  their  father,  as  a  manifest  improve 
ment. 

The  hymn  for  the  occasion  was  a  new  one,  written  by  the 
schoolmaster  at  Fanny's  request.  All  united  in  singing  ;  but 
Harry's  well-cultivated  voice,  naturally  melodious  and  strong, 
though  beautifully  blending  with  the  others,  elevated  its  music 
beyond  its  usual  character.  Fanny  was  delighted  with  the 
success  of  her  hymn  ;  and  Alek,  who  took  some  small  interest 
in  the  "  Philharmonic  band,"  engaged  Harry's  assistance  in 
the  choir  for  the  day.  ^ 

There  was  quite  a  turn-out  of  teams  from  the  deacon's,  that 
day ;  but  Alek  was  not  careful,  as  at  other  times  when  Mar 
garet  had  been  one  of  the  company,  to  have  all  in  readiness 
so  early  as  to  anticipate  the  major's  arrival.  The  major's 
family  sleigh  came  along  while  Alek  .was  still  busy  in  harness 
ing  the  colts,  so  that  Margaret  went  with  her  father  and 
mother.  Mrs.  Simperkins,  who  had  a  motive  to  secure  a 
proper  reception  of  the  divinity  student  at  church,  and  there 
by  magnify  her  own  importance,  proposed  to  go  in  the  ma 
jor's  sleigh ;  to  which  none  objected.  Once  on  the  way,  she 
expatiated  to  the  major  on  the  arrival  of  the  divinity  student, 
whose  piety,  and  learning,  and  Orthodox  standing,  she  vouched 
for,  and  expressed  a  decided  opinion  that  Mr.  Borcman  should 
be  prepared  for  so  unusual  a  hearer.  Major  Murray  inclined 
to  the  opinion  that  the  parson  should  be  prepared  for  so 
distinguished  an  arrival,  and  therefore  urged  his  horse  to 
unwonted  speed.  Dobbin  demurred,  but  the  major  insisted, 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  .  157 

and  they  arrived  fully  five  minutes  before  Alek's  party  came 
in  sight. 

Events  were  auspicious.  They  met  the  parson  in  the 
porch,  and  explained  the  affair.  The  group  waited  in  the 
porch  till  the  deacon's  family  arrived.  Harry  was  then  form 
ally  introduced,  by  Mrs.  Simperkins,  to  Major  Murray,  and 
by  him  to  the  minister,  and  by  the  minister  to  Mrs.  Boreman, 
the  minister's  wife,  and  by  her  to  the  fair  and  slender-waisted 
Lucinda,  the  minister's  daughter.  The  minister  invited  the 
"  divinity  student "  to  sit  with  him,  and  assist  in  the  exercises. 
He  was  astonished,  and  concluded  at  once  that  the  essence  of 
all  the  politeness  in  the  world,  as  well  as  every  other  excel 
lence,  was  concentrated  in  Wolfsden.  But  he  declined  the 
parson's  invitation,  on  the  ground  that  he  had  already  engaged 
to  sing  with  the  choir.  The  parson's  wife  hoped  he  would 
make  them  an  early  visit,  and  the  fair  Lucinda  looked  a  kind 
welcome ;  and  Harry,  always  complying,  promised  to  come. 
Uncle  Lemuel  and  Aunt  Nabby  were  a  little  surprised  at  this 
scene;  but  they  were  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Simperkins'  offi- 
ciousness,  and  her  presence  explained  it. 

The  parson  had  woven  his  dissertation  upon  the  lost  tribes 
into  a  long  forenoon  and  afternoon  sermon,  for  the  new  year. 
All  the  divine  attributes  were  illustrated  in  a  signal  manner 
by  his  theory  of  their  dispersion  from  their  ancient  inherit 
ance  on  account  of  their  transgressions;  their  banishment 
to  the  wild  and  benighted  region  of  the  western  world ;  their 
long  seclusion  of  three  thousand  years  from  the  benefits  of 
civilization  ;  their  judicial  blindness  and  heathenism  in  conse 
quence  of  their  apostasy  ;  their  subjugation  and  extirpation; 
all  which  prove  the  justice  and  fearful  vengeance  of  God 
14 


158  WOLFSDEN. 

descending  on  original  offenders,  and,  through  them,  to  their 
latest  posterity. 

In  illustration  and  proof  of  the  principle  chiefly  vindicated 
in  this  view,  he  cited  the  case  of  the  children  of  Canaan, 
doomed  to  everlasting  servitude  for  the  transgression  of  Ham  ; 
assuming  the  Africans  to  be  the  Canaanites,  and  the  slavery 
of  the  present  age  their  appointed  punishment.  To  this  lat 
ter  point  he  gave  particular  distinction  and  emphasis,  consid 
ering  it  providential  that  he  had  put  it  into  his  sermon  ;  for 
Mrs.  Simperkins,  in  her  hurried  account  of  the  divinity  stu 
dent,  had  mentioned  his  being  the  son  of  a  southern  planter, 
and  he  was  willing  that  it  should  be  understood  in  such  high 
quarters  that  here  in  Wolfsden  the  scriptural  supports  and 
warrants  of  slavery  were  properly  taught.  Whatever  may  be 
thought  of  the  philosophy  and  philanthropy  of  his  sermon,  its 
patriotism  and  conservatism  were  unquestionable. 

There  was  but  a  short  recess  between  sermons.  The  wind 
without  was  keen ;  but  fuel,  like  everything  else,  was  plenty 
in  Wolfsden,  and  the  meeting-house  was  warm  within ;  and 
therefore  many  of  the  congregation,  who  came  from  a  dis 
tance,  remained  and  digested  the  sermon  within  the  sacred 
walls.  Not  alone  with  spiritual  food  did  they  improve  the 
hour.  From  many  a  capacious  pocket  came  forth,  in  various 
packages,  such  samples  of  substantial  fare  as  serious  people 
may  in  good  conscience  enjoy.  The  more  refined  and  fastid 
ious  were  more  reserved  and  private  in  their  repast.  The 
young  women,  and  girls  especially,  munched  their  cake  and 
cheese  behind  veils  and  kerchiefs,  or  with  their  faces  turned 
devoutly  to  the  wall,  as  though  mindful  of  the  proverb, 
"  Bread  eaten  in  secret  is  pleasant."  Not  so  the  children, 
who,  each  with  a  rosy-cheeked  apple  in  one  fist,  and  a 


WOLFSDEN.  159 

huge  doughnut,  or  turnover,  in  the  other,  ran  about  to  the 
neighboring  pews,  as  determined  to  investigate  every  other 
bill  of  fare  before  deciding  upon  the  sufficiency  of  their  own. 

Meantime,  Harry  went  to  pay  his  dutiful  respects  to  his 
grand-uncle,  the  captain.  Alek  accompanied  him,  and  so  did 
Uncle  Lemuel  and  Aunt  Nabby.  The  captain  brought  in 
the  schoolmaster,  in  whom  he  found  a  former  acquaintance. 
He  also  recognized  and  invited  Hezekiah  and  Helen,  so  that 
a  large  circle  assembled  in  his  pleasant  parlor.  The  old 
captain  is  genial  —  a  genial  old  gentleman  of  the  old  school. 
To  maintain  this  position  is  now  his  sole  business,  and  he  does 
it  very  well.  In  his  well-provided  and  comfortable  parlor  the 
severe  frosts  of  winter  are  tempered  by  the  blaze  and  bright 
coals  of  the  glowing  hearth,  and  the  frosts  of  age  he  tempers 
with  timely  supplies  of  toast  and  toddy  ;  "  And  thus,"  says  he, 
"  I  keep  my  outer  and  inner  man  in  trim."  By  his  outer  man 
he  means  his  skin,  and  by  his  inner  man  his  stomach ;  and 
these,  as  he  evidently  conceives,  make  up  his  whole  being.  He 
is  a  regular  attendant  at  Parson  Boreman's  meeting,  and  sub 
scribes  ten  dollars  a  year  to  support  the  minister,  and  one  dol 
lar  to  convert  the  heathen.  The  old  gentleman  understands 
very  well  that  a  due  regard  for  religion  is  essential  to  the  per 
fection  of  gentlemanly  character,  and  therefore  he  gives  it  his 
patronage. 

The  captain  seldom  discusses  the  doctrines  taught  from  the 
pulpit ;  indeed,  he  generally  nods  in  his  pew,  as  one  who  is 
willing  to  trust  his  minister  that  he  will  go  right  without 
watching.  But  to-day  he  had  gathered  up  some  of  the  par 
son's  remarks  about  the  lost  tribes,  and  rather  dissented  from 
that  part  of  the  sermon  which  identified  them  with  the  In 
dians.  He  had  seen  Jews  and  Indians  enough  in  his  day,  and 


160  WOLFSDEN. 

they  were  no  more  alike  than  a  grenadier  and  a  powder-mon 
key.  The  Jews  wear  long  beards,  and  the  Indians  have  no 
beards  at  all.  The  Jews  deal  in  old  clothes,  and  let  money 
on  pawn  (here  Harry  winced  a  little) ;  but  the  Indians  have 
neither  clothes  to  sell  nor  money  to  let.  The  Jews  eat  no 
pork ;  but  the  Indians  eat  hog,  dog,  and  whatever  else  they  can 
catch  or  steal.  He,  however,  agreed  with  the  parson  that  it  was 
a  good  thing  in  God  and  our  forefathers  to  kill  them  off,  and 
put  the  country  to  a  Christian  use ;  and,  if  they  were  in  reality 
the  lost  tribes,  he  thought  it  a  pity  the  other  two  had  not  been 
lost  with  them. 

Harry,  who  generally  fell  in  with  the  prevailing  tone  of  con 
versation,  followed  his  uncle's  lead  in  dissenting  from  the  par 
son's  expositions.  He  said  that  the  offence  which  Ham  gave  to 
his  drunken  father,  and  the  curse  which  the  old  toper  gave  to 
his  grandchild  in  consequence,  was  rather  a  vague  and  unsat 
isfactory  foundation  for  so  extensive  a  superstructure  of  the"- 
ory.  If  the  curse  had  any  effect  on  succeeding  generations, 
it  seems  to  have  included  the  posterity  of  Shem  and  Japhet,  as 
well  as  the  dark  descendants  of  Ham  ;  for  there  certainly  have 
been  many  more  white  slaves  since  that  time  than  black  ones; 
black  slavery  being  of  recent  institution,  while  white  slavery 
has  prevailed  extensively  through  all  the  nations  of  antiquity, 
and  even  at  the  present  day,  said  he,  there  is  a  pretty  free 
infusion  of  white  blood  among  our  slaves,  often  to  such  extent 
that  it  would  puzzle  Ham  to  pick  out  his  posterity  on  some 
plantations. 

The  old  captain  presented  a  theory  in  explanation,  by  sup 
posing  that  Canaan,  when  he  heard  his  grandfather's  curse, 
cursed  the  old  man  and  all  his  boys  back  again ;  which  would 
account,  not  only  for  the  confusion  of  servile  consequences 


WOLFSDEN.  lol 

following  in  after  ages,  but  also  for  the  habits  of  cursing  which 
old  men  and  boys  are  apt  to  fall  into,  where  people  are  in  the 
habit  of  getting  drunk.  Not,  said  he,  that  he  would  .cast 
any  disparaging  reflections  upon  the  venerable  patriarch, 
whom  he  felt  under  particular  obligation  to  reverence ;  and 
who,  being  a  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  might  without  cen 
sure  be  sometimes  a  little  over-indulgent  in  wine,  for  which  he 
had  also  an  excuse  of  peculiar  force,  for  he  had  certainly  been 
over-dosed  with  water  beyond  any  other  mortal. 

Hezekiah  expressed  his  dissent  from  any  defence  of  the  extir 
pation  of  the  Indians  which  might  be  derived  from  Scripture, 
as  a  perversion  of  the  principles  of  the  Good  Book,  of  which 
the  preceptive  parts  enjoin  justice  and  mercy,  and  forbid  cruelty 
and  bloodshed,  although  the  historical  parts  abound  with  ex 
amples  of  the  latter,  by  no  means  recorded  for  imitation.  He 
thought  that  our  Pilgrim  Fathers,  though  endowed  with  noble 
and  manly  virtues,  were  also  fallible,  like  men  of  the  present 
day ;  swayed  by  simitar  motives,  and  subject  to  similar  self- 
delusions;  often  pursuing  selfish  ends,  regardless' of  right,  and 
afterward  soothing  their  consciences  by  supposed  warrant 
from  Scripture. 

The  schoolmaster  observed  that  the  fate  of  the  aboriginal 
inhabitants  of  this  country  must  always  present  a  gloomy 
page  of  history  to  the  philanthropist;  and,  though  the  political 
economist  might  find  ample  equivalent  in  the  vast  increase  of 
population  and  happiness  resulting  from  their  displacement,  the 
Christian  would  still  wish,  with  the  apostolic  Eliot,  that  tho 
pilgrims  "  had  converted  some,  before  they  killed  so  many." 
The  character  of  the  Indians  has  been  drawn  in  too  dark  col 
ors,  in  order  to  palliate  the  wrongs  done  them.  The  vices  of 
ignorance  and  poverty  must  always  be  expected  among  the 
14* 


162  WOLFSDEN. 

uncivilized ;  but,  in  making  our  estimate,  we  should  take  into 
account  their  capabilities,  which,  in  such  cases,  should  be 
judged  of  by  favorable  specimens.  The  history  of  Logan,  of 
Pocahontas,  of  Tecumseh,  of  lied  Jacket,  and  Osceola,  prove 
the  capability  of  the  Indian  race  for  whatever  virtues  have 
found  praise  among  men ;  and  in  looking  at  their  fate,  and  that 
of  many  like  them,  we  must  confess  that  the  present  good 
which  we  enjoy  has  grown  out  of  much  evil  done  to  others. 
It  will  not  do  to  shield  ourselves  from  the  reproach  of  wrong 
by  pleading  that  the  plans  of  Providence  are  thereby  wrought 
out.  The  Indian  race  would  undoubtedly  have  been  extin 
guished  or  absorbed  in  the  march  of  civilization,  even  if  jus 
tice  and  kindness  had  kept  pace  with  it.  Perhaps  they  did 
not  suffer  more  in  the  process  of  extirpation  Mian  other  nations 
who  have  died  by -pestilence,  famine,  or  inundations.  The 
chief  thing  to  be  regretted,  in  all  human  suffering  proceeding 
from  human  violence,  is  that  right  has  been  violated,  and  the 
moral  sense  of  mankind  corrupted,  especially  where  the  sanc 
tion  of  religion  is  sought  and  pressed  into  the  defence  of  the 
act. 


CHAPTER    X. 


WE  will  do  the  parson  a  good  turn  by  exciting  public  in 
terest  in  his  researches  concerning  the  lost  tribes,  without  so 
far  satisfying  curiosity  as  to  spoil  the  sale  of  his  dissertation. 
Therefore  we  omit  the  afternoon  continuation  of  the  subject ; 
but  must  not  omit  to  notify  the  reader  of  a  meeting,  this 
evening,  of  the  Philharmonic  Band,  in  Squire  Noseby's  hall. 
With  what  eager  delight  is  the  hour  anticipated  by  the 
happy-hearted  youths  and  maidens  of  Wolfsden,  who,  from 
far  and  near,  gather  in  these  weekly  Sunday  evening  musical 
meetings,  to  do  their  part,  either  as  zealous  performers  or 
admiring  listeners.  How  full  of  music  are  their  souls  !  With 
what  alacrity  they  come  from  miles  around,  in  sleighs  so  lib 
erally  loaded,  through  roads  so  recently  broken,  and  still 
piled  with  many  a  half-subdued  drift,  the  eeat  of  many  a 
funny  disaster ! 

From  far  and  near,  from  many  a  sequestered  dwelling,  in 
valley  or  on  hill-side,  from  the  wide  circumference  of  happy 
homes,  to  the  common  centre  of  Noseby's  hall,  come  the  rus 
tic  youth,  overflowing  with  energy  and  good-nature  ;  prompt 
with  politeness,  uncultivated,  yet  true,  because  heart-inspired  ; 
officious  with  gallantry,  awkward,  yet  welcome  and  well- 
appreciated.  They  come  convoying  many  a  fair  freight  of 


164  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

country  maidens,  whose  shining  cheeks  glow  in  the  healthy 
exercise  with  universal  red,  while  their  bright  eyes  sparkle 
with  various  hues. 

To  all  these,  however  remote  from  fashion  their  abode, 
nature,  ever  the  accomplished  patron  of  the  sex,  has  im 
parted  the  charms,  the  wiles,  the  graces,  the  all-prevailing 
power,  which  subdues  generous  and  stout  hearts,  and  vindi 
cates  the  universal  empire  of  love. 

No  neglected  maiden  pines  at  home  for  lack  of  a  brother, 
or  cousin,  or  lover,  to  escort  her  thither.  A  circuit  of  a 
dozen  miles  is  a  slight  feat  for  the  ambitious  youth,  whose 
partial  pride  exults  in  the  flectness  of  his  steed,  and  the 
charms  of  his  sweetheart.  The  heart-flowing  sounds  of 
merry  voices,  and  glad,  laughing  shouts,  mingle  with  the  joy- 
jingling  bells,  and  fling  upon  the  echoing  air  a  melody  more 
cheering  than  the  liveliest  strains  of  even  the  Philharmonic 
Band. 

Brief  be  our  record  of  the  brilliant  company  assembled. 
The  fair  Lucinda,  of  the  many  curls  and  slender  waist,  was 
there  ;  by  long  prescription,  the  undisputed  and  unenvied 
belle  of  Wolfsden.  Great  was  the  sum  of  her  attainments. 
She  had  explored  the  paths  of  philosophy,  scanned  the  secrets 
of  science,  revelled  in  the  regions  of  romance,  and  plumed  the 
pinions  of  poetry.  She  had  often  kept  the  village  school,  and 
has  been  talked  of  as  preceptress  of  an  academy.  Her  pres 
ence  was  an  honor  and  ornament  to  every  assembly,  and  her 
fame  belongs  to  Wolfsden. 

Yet  impartial  fate  scatters  her  favors  with  equal  hand, 
and  those  to  whom  their  own  sex  willingly  award  the  palm 
of  superior  attractions  seldom  find  their  charms  so  effectually 
appreciated  in  the  market  of  matrimony,  as  others,  whom 


W  0  L  F  S  I)  K  N  .  165 

their  fair  sisters  often  spitefully  disparage.  So  the  fair  Lu- 
cinda,  sweet  as  the  last  rose  of  summer,  still  fluttered  on  the 
ancestral  bush,  while  a  hundred  newer  and  humbler  flowers 
flaunted  in  bridal  bouquets. 

Helen  Arbor  came.  So  seldom  was  her  appearance  where 
amusement  is  tho  chief  attraction,  that  her  presence  was 
always  noticed.  It  was  noticed  now  more  than  ever;  fora 
stranger  accompanied  her,  one  who  evidently  stood  in  some 
intimate  relation  to  her.  He  was  a  dignified  and  remarkably 
good-looking  gentleman.  Curiosity  was  excited,  for  Helen 
had  never  before  been  seen  so  squired.  What  could  it  mean  ? 
Fortunately  the  Bowlers  were  present.  Whispers  were  circu 
lated,  and  the  cat,  so  long  confined  in  the  traditionary  bag, 
escaped  once  more,  and  roamed  at  will  in  the  wonder-loving 
world.  It  was  Helen's  choice  that  the  secret  should  come 
out  all  at  once,  rather  than  by  the  usual  process  of  leakage ; 
for,  when  everything  is  once  known,  gossip  dies  of  a  surfeit, 
and  the  world  ceases  to  wonder. 

Harry  was  there,  of  course.  He  was  specially  invited  by 
the  leader  and  chief  singers  of  the  choir ;  and,  therefore,  he 
came  to  please  his  new  friends,  —  otherwise  he  would  have 
come  to  please  himself,  for  it  is  Harry's  "  genius  "  always  to 
please  somebody. 

Margaret  was  there.  If  she  were  not,  everybody  would 
have  regretted  her  absence.  Margaret  makes  no  pretensions 
on  the  score  of  music,  —  indeed,  she  never  makes  pretensions 
of  any  sort ;  there  is  no  need ;  the  diamond  will  sparkle, 
however  unostentatiously  it  is  placed.  She  commonly  sits 
near  the  foot  of  the  choir,  with  Hannah  Bowler;  but  the 
Chorister  knows  where  the  music  comes  from,  and  upon  whom 
he  may  rely. 


166  WOLFSDEN. 

Margaret  moved  among  the  animated  circle  with  a  mild 
and  retiring  dignity,  gentle  and  unassuming,  but  yet  not  self- 
forgetful.  She  felt  her  soul's  superiority,  and  was  not  una 
ware  of  her  personal  attractions  ;  but  her  sense  was  equal  to 
the  task  of  concealing  her  vanity,  though  she  might  not  re 
press  it.  Hitherto  she  had  thought  little  of  her  superior 
advantages,  for  she  had  no  occasion  to  employ  them, — no  aim 
to  win  admiration  or  mortify  rivalry,  —  so  that  her  self-con 
scious  worth  rested  as  quietly  in  her  thought  as  the  con 
science  of  a  good  man,  giving  solid  but  unseen  enjoyment. 
But  now  that  the  calm  current  of  her  life  had  met  a  new  and 
disturbing  influence,  her  mind  was  excited  to  a  closer  self* 
examination,  and  it  may  reasonably  be  supposed  that,  in  her 
close  scrutiny  of  self,  the  fair  exterior  was  not  wholly  forgot 
ten.  Yet  who  can  explore,  or,  having  explored,  can  describe, 
much  less  account  for,  the  complicated  emotions,  motives,  and 
methods,  of  the  female  heart  ? 

Individuals  blend  in  society,  like  tones  in  music,  or  colors 
in  dress,  sometimes  with  pleasing  harmony  and  sometimes 
with  disagreeable  discord.  Good  taste  will  arrange  each  so 
as  to  produce  the  most  pleasing  effect.  Margaret  had  the 
intuitive  perception  of  good  taste,  and  therefore  she  usually 
accompanied  Hannah  Bowler.  Hannah  was  a  little  younger 
than  Margaret,  and  only  a  little  ;  not  quite  so  elegantly 
formed,  or  so  beautiful,  but  nearly  so  ;  a  little  less  matu 
rity  of  mind  and  sprightliness  of  wit,  yet  well  gifted  in  both  ; 
a  little  less  richness  and  fulness  and  compass  of  voice,  in 
music,  but  equally  true  and  clear  in  tone ;  and  in  all  respects 
adding  a  welcome  charm  to  the  society  of  her  companion,  and 
giving  strength  to  her  dominion,  without  dividing  her  empire. 
The  alliance,  though  not  concerted  with  that  view,  was  mutu- 


WOLFSDEN.  167 

ally  advantageous  in  its  magnifying  effect,  as  when  a  bril 
liant  barrister  forms  a  partnership  with  one  less  eminent, 
preserving,  and  perhaps  increasing,  his  own  importance, 
while  he  reflects  the  lustre  of  his  fame  upon  his  humbler 
brother. 

The  chorister  knew  well  what  voices  would  blend  with 
best  effect.  A  composition  for  two  voices  was  included  in 
tb.3  order  of  exercises.  He  requested  Harry  and  Margaret 
to  perform  it.  To  refuse  was  impossible ;  yet  how,  with  pal 
pitating  hearts  and  perhaps  tremulous  voices,  could  they 
sing  ?  Each  was  unconscious  of  the  emotion  of  the  other, 
yet  both  were  equally  embarrassed.  Harry  had  never  before 
met  an  emergency  to  which  he  did  not  feel  himself  equal. 
Yet  he  had  often  declaimed  before  censorious  judges,  and 
wrangled  with  invidious  rivals,  and  had  sometimes  been 
called  to  render  account  before  grave  and  reverend  profess 
ors  ;  or,  worse  still,  to  meet  a  monstrous  bill  of  irregular 
and  disreputable  expenses,  with  an  exchequer  already  ex 
hausted.  With  strong  effort  he  concealed  his  emotion ;  or, 
if  some  few  observed  it,  they  readily  imputed  it  to  the  nat 
ural  diffidence  of  a  young  man  among  strangers.  A  fine 
notion,  truly  !  Harry  Boynton  embarrassed  by  a  Wolfsden 
audience  !  It  was  the  audience  alone  which  sustained  him  ; 
otherwise,  how  could  he  proceed  with  the  thrilling  emotions 
which  the  unexpected  proposition  excited  ?  Yet  he  did  pro 
ceed  in  his  best  style ;  and,  though  Margaret's  voice  was 
thought  to  be  a  little  less  full  and  clear  than  usual,  yet  the 
marked  and  silent  admiration  of  the  audience,  and  the  grati 
fied  expression  of  the  chorister,  showed  that  their  performance 
was  not  a  failure.  At  the  request  of  Colonel  Bowler,  they 
again  performed  the  duet ;  and  this  time  Margaret's  voice 


168  WOLFSDEN. 

was  full  and  firm,  so  that  even  Harry,  who  expected  nothing 
less  than  perfection  from  such  a  source,  felt  his  high  estimate 
fully  realized. 

"That's  what  I  call  singing,"  whispered  Ike  to  Alek. 
Alek  assented,  with  a  delighted  ear,  but  a  heavy  heart.  It 
was  to  him  sadly  beautiful,  like  the  requiem  of  departed  joys 
and  hopes. 

The  divinity  student  rode  the  topmost  wave  of  popularity. 
A  frank  address  and  good  voice  were  always  a  passport  to  the 
confidence  and  esteem  of  the  villagers  of  Wolfsden.  Cordial 
civilities  and  earnest  invitations  overwhelmed  him.  Squire 
Chinby,  from  the  "  North  Neighborhood,"  was  introduced, 
and  earnestly  invited  him  to  visit  that  part  of  the  town.  The 
"  North  Meeting-house  "  was  a  sort  of  rival  religious  institu 
tion,  built  up  by  the  union  of  several  scattered  fragments  of 
different  sects.  It  was  four  or  five  miles  from  the  centre  of 
the  town,  and  was  only  casually  supplied  with  a  minister, 
being  commonly  a  meeting  of  exhortation  and  miscellaneous 
exercises.  Sometimes  an  itinerant  preacher  startles  the  ech 
oing  walls  with  a  new  voice,  and  perhaps  new  notions  of 
divinity.  The  walls  receive  and  echo  back,  with  impartial 
assent,  each  varying  form  of  doctrine.  The  more  discrimi 
nating  audience  receive  and  respond  with  less  unanimity. 
Yet  each  new  preacher  finds  some  to  support  and  "  bear  tes 
timony  "  to  the  truth  of  his  teachings,  while  on  every  occa 
sion  dissent  may  be  seen  plainly  marked  on  many  faces ;  for 
none  come  to  be  convinced  or  to  be  swerved  from  their  long- 
cherished  faith,  or  from  the  doctrines  to  which  they  are  com 
mitted,  but  all  to  hear  their  own  opinions  repeated,  and  their 
neighbors  refuted.  When  a  Calvinist  comes,  though  he  should 


WOLFSDEN.  169 

say  nothing  of  election  and  reprobation,  Mr.  Clack  and  his 
wife  detect  him,  and  look  querulous  and  dissentient,  but  Mr. 
Click  and  his  wife  look  pert  and  "  edified."  If  a  Freewill 
Baptist  hold  forth,  Mr.  Clack  and  wife  listen  with  pleased 
eyes  and  ears,  and  nod  assent  to  each  other  and  their  neigh 
bors  at  each  well-put  period;  while  Mr.  Click  and  wife, 
though  listening  earnestly  to  detect  contradictions  and  un- 
scripturalities,  put  on  all  the  mask  of  indifference.  When 
the  Methodist,  in  turn,  finds  his  way  there,  neither  Clack  and 
wife  nor  Click  and  wife  find  spiritual  food  in  sermon  or 
prayer;  but  Mr.  Clock  and  wife  are  ecstatic  with  illumin 
ation.  They  mutter  audible  amens  in  sermon,  and  give 
groans  of  gratification  in  prayer.  Mr.  Cluck,  the  Univer- 
salist,  helped  build  the  meeting-house,  and  sometimes  vindi 
cates  his  right  to  be  taught  what  he  already  pretends  to  know, 
and  invites  a  stray  Universalist  preacher ;  and  then  all  the 
other  vowels  look  glum  at  what  he  calls  the  "  glad  news;  " 
that  is,  the  old  vowels  look  glum ;  but  there  are  grace 
less  young  Clacks,  Clicks,  and  Clocks,  as  well  as  Clucks,  who 
approve  of  Universalism  out  of  spite,  and,  though  they  have  no 
peculiar  predilection  for  the  tedious  heaven,  "  where  congre 
gations  ne'er  break' up,  and  Sabbaths  never  end,"  yet  they 
choose  to  have  the  gates  thereof  kept  open,  as  an  alternative 
retreat  from  the  fiery  and  unsavory  opposite.  Thus  each  is 
fed  in  turn  with  the  food  his  sectarian  palate  affects ;  the 
sectarian  spirit  is  kept  sharp,  and  the  "  union  meeting 
house  "  is  well  filled. 

Squire  Chinby   is   recognized  as    the   great   man  of  the 

region,   which  is  often   called  the  "  Chinby  neighborhood." 

He  is  an  independent  farmer,  —  one  of  the  selectmen,  keeps 

the  Chinby  school  in  winter,  and  leads  the  singing  in  the 

15 


170  WOLFSDEN. 

union  meeting-house.  He  pretends  to  no  preference  of  sects, 
and  sings  dolorous  reprobation  or  exulting  universal  salva 
tion,  in  their  appropriate  tunes,  with  impartial  execution.  All 
the  vowels  say  that  he  is  a  Gallio,  "  caring  for  none  of  these 
things;"  yet  his  influence  is  decisive  with  them  all.  Such 
is  the  advantage  of  a  non-committalism.  They  each  hope  yet 
to  get  him  on  their  side,  and  therefore  speak  him  fair. 

Chinby  has  a  large  family,  all  good-looking ;  but  his  two 
blue-eyed  daughters  look  best  of  all.  They  are  the  prettiest 
and  best-dressed  girls  in  the  region.  All  Chinby's  things 
look  well  ;  he  takes  pride  in  having  everything,  including 
himself,  look  well. 

Chinby  pressed  the  invitation  to  the  "  divinity  student "  to 
come  to  their  meeting  next  Sunday.  There  was  to  be  a  cele 
brated  minister  there,  —  a  heathen  missionary  ;  for  so  he,  with 
malicious  humor,  designates  the  missionary  to  the  heathen. 
The  "  divinity  student,"  however,  was  not  much  attracted  by 
the  promised  treat,  and  rather  evaded  the  invitation,  till 
Chinby  introduced  his  blue-eyed  daughters.  Then  he  some 
what  relented;  observing  that  he  was  in  his  friend  Alek's  hands, 
but  should  come  if  possible.  Alek,  thus  appealed  to,  readily 
promised  to  bring  his  friend ;  and  thus  Parson  Borernan,  who 
elaborated  his  sermon  for  the  next  Sunday  with  peculiar 
care,  that  the  divinity  student  might  know  what  it  is  to  be  a 
minister,  lost  his  labor,  so  far  as  Harry  was  concerned. 

Alek  still  held  his  resolve  to  be  quiet.  He  determined 
that  none  should  suspect  his  trouble.  His  unrequited  love 
and  wounded  pride,  already  sore  enough,  shrunk  from  the 
blistering  salve  of  sympathy,  so  generally  applied  in  such 
cases.  So  he  kept  secret  the  disorder  of  his  heart,  and  wore 
a  brave  face. 


VTOLFSDEN.  17x 

Wounded  pride,  though  often  the  bitterest  ingredient  in 
the  cup  of  disappointed  love,  added  little,  however,  to  Alek's 
grief.  His  self-estimate  was  based  on  such  strong  convic 
tions  of  his  capabilities,  that  he  was  not  much  humbled.  He 
cast  his  mind  forward  to  overlook  the  intervening  space  which 
separates  present  gloom  from  the  possible  brightness  of  the 
future;  for  his  inquietude  was  that  which  inspires  resolve 
and  prompts  effort,  even  in  desperation.  In  the  smooth  cur 
rent  of  reciprocated  love  his  manly  virtues  would  have  been 
gently  and  surely  developed,  but  his  deeper  and  dormant 
energies  might  not  have  been  awakened.  The  deep  strife  of 
his  passion  roused  his  soul  to  a  new  self-estimate,  and  new 
resolve.  The  day  was  to  him  an  epoch.  It  finished  the  soft 
and  pleasing  dream  of  the  past,  and  filled  him  with  a  sense 
of  the  faculties  by  which  he  must  work  out  the  untried  duties 
and  unknown  destinies  of  the  future.  The  hopes  and  remem 
brances  so  dear  to  him  he  would  not  regret  nor  cast  away  ; 
but  he  determined  to  remain  no  longer  in  their  view.  He 
repeated  his  resolve  of  quiet  —  the  quiet  of  firm  resolve. 

Harry  was  happy  enough.  It  was  his  genius  to  be  happy. 
The  bright  side  of  everything  reflects  its  brightness  upon 
him.  When  the  resources  of  enjoyment  are  abundant,  he 
revels  in  them ;  when  they  fail,  he  is  none  the  less  happy. 
Whatever  is  pleasant  in  his  possession  he  enjoys.  The  pleas 
ant  possessions  of  others  give  him  equal  pleasure.  As  once 
a  learned  Bonze  followed  a  rich  and  ostentatious  Mandarin, 
repeatedly  thanking  him  for  his  jewels,  "  Friend,"  said  the 
Mandarin,  "  why  thank  me  ?  I  give  thee  none  of  my  jewels." 
—  "  True,"  replied  the  Bonze ;  "  but  you  permit  me  the 
pleasure  of  looking  on  them,  which  is  all  that  even  yourself 


172  WOLFSDEN. 

can  enjoy."  So  Harry  enjoys  every  pleasant  thing,  regardless 
of  possession. 

The  deep  fountains  of  his  feeling  were  opened,  and  the 
repose  of  his  soul's  quiet  disturbed ;  yet  the  element  of 
self-satisfaction  still  prevailed,  and  will  still  prevail,  whatever 
results  may  follow. 

He  appeared  more  thoughtful,  more  earnest,  more  manly, 
than  before,  but  not  the  less  bright  and  joyous.  He  thought 
of  Margaret  as  the  knights  thought  of  their  lady-loves, 
invested  with  unapproachable  grace,  whom  the  privilege  of 
sometimes  seeing  and  always  adoring  was  its  own  ample 
reward ;  and  with  whatever  pangs  strong  emotion  and  un 
certain  hope  pierced  his  heart,  they  still  more  endeared  to 
him  their  object,  as  Tony's  fair  cousins  loved  best  the  books 
\vhich  made  them  cry  the  most. 

Alek  and  Harry  were  fast  friends.  Though  so  different 
in  their  experiences,  habits,  and  elements  of  character,  their 
differences  were  such  as  combine  in  mutually  agreeable  and 
profitable  companionship.  Harry  had  looked  abroad,  and 
learned  the  knowledge  and  the  ways  of  the  world.  Alek  had 
looked  within,  and  drawn  knowledge  from  the  heart.  Each 
surprised  and  pleased  the  other  with  novel  ideas.  Each  im 
parted,  received,  and  shared  with  the  other,  in  social  feeling 
and  generous  confidence.  Yet  upon  one  subject  both  were  in 
stinctively  silent ;  and  that  very  silence  suggested  mutual 
inferences  vague  and  erroneous  in  both.  Each  generously 
awarded  the  chief  interest  in  Margaret  to  the  other,  and  each 
with  equal  pangs  of  regret. 

Next  Sunday  promised  a  nice  day  for  enterprise.  A 
week's  fair  weather  had  made  the  sleighing  smooth,  and  Alek 
arranged  a  party  to  patronize  the  "  heathen  missionary.' 


WOLFSDEN.  173 

Margaret  was  invited,  but  declined.  The  Simperkins  was 
not  invited,  but  strongly  inclined  to  go.  Heathen  mission 
aries  are  her  delight.  But  remembrance  of  disasters  past, 
and  fear  of  like  catastrophes  to  come,  deterred  her.  She  was 
also  piqued  at  the  neglect  of  the  "  divinity  student,"  who  had 
learned  to  whom  he  owed  the  reverence  for  clerical  dignity 
which  had  so  much  annoyed  him.  It  was  not  from  delicacy 
of  sentiment,  but  fear  of  some  mad  freak,  by  way  of  punish 
ment,  that  she  did  not,  in  some  of  her  irresistible  ways,  press 
her  claims  to  make  one  of  the  devotional  party  to  the  North 
Meeting-house. 

But  the  pung  was  well  filled,  nevertheless,  and  fleetly  the 
spirited  colts  skimmed  the  road.  But,  swift  as  they  went, 
Harry's  fame  had  preceded  him ;  and  he  was  received  by 
young  and  old  with  the  reverence,  and  scanned  with  the  crit 
icism,  due  to  a  scion  of  divinity.  He  was  half  amused  and 
half  vexed,  and  meditated  how  he  should  shake  off  his  un 
merited  and  unwelcome  honors.  Fortunately  the  missionary 
soon  arrived,  and  absorbed  most  of  the  reverence  and  criti 
cism  kept  on  hand  for  such  occasions.  Fortunately,  also,  the 
worshippers  at  the  union  meeting-house  are  careful  not  to  com 
mit  themselves  by  too  much  cordiality,  or  too  much  criticism, 
till  the  sectarian  character  of  the  claimant  shall  be  known. 
It  was  uncertain  what  wind  of  doctrine  the  young  man  might 
have  brought  with  him ;  and  Clack,  Click,  Clock,  and  Cluck, 
each  devised  their  plans  to  sound  him. 

Meantime  the  missionary  took  his  position.  Harry  recog 
nized  him,  at  once.  It  was  liev.  Titus  Twangson,  one  of  the 
devoted  and  self-sacrificing  band  who  sailed,  some  two  years 
before,  in  his  uncle's  ship,  the  "  Main  Chance,"  from  New 
York,  bound  for  the  Sandwich  Islands.  Harry  was  at  that 
15*  - 


174  WOLFSDEN. 

time  a  visitor  at  his  uncle's ;  and,  as  the  missionary  ship  was 
then  a  chief  object  of  interest  with  the  family,  he  frequently 
went  on  board,  and  became  quite  well  acquainted  with  its 
arrangements,  from  the  splendid  cabin  and  saloon  devoted  to 
the  missionaries  and  their  wives,  to  the  less  inviting  fore 
castle  devoted  to  the  sailors.  The  cargo  of  the  Main  Chance 
was  made  up  partly  of  barrels  of  New  England  rum,  with 
muskets,  powder  and  ball,  and  boxes  of  hardware,  some  of 
which,  marked  "  Hints  for  Brawlers,"  "  Peace  Persuaders," 
"  Kentucky  Codes,"  &c.,  excited  his  curiosity,  till  told  they 
were  daggers,  bowie-knives,  and  other  trinkets  of  commerce. 
Harry  had  previously,  like  many  other  thoughtless  boys,  felt 
a  strong  inclination  for  the  excitement  and  adventure  of  a 
sailor's  life ;  but  the  conversation  at  his  uncle's  concerning 
the  great  work  of  the  missionaries,  and  the  great  rewards  to 
follow,  and  especially  a  comparison  of  the  cabin  and  saloon 
with  the  forecastle,  gradually  changed  his  views  in  favor  of  a 
missionary  life ;  in  preparation  for  which,  he  cultivated  a 
sentimental  acquaintance  with  Miss  Xeverspin,  a  young  lady 
about  his  own  age,  and  one  of  the  missionary's  daughters, 
who,  with  her  parents,  sojourned  a  few  days  at  his  uncle's 
while  the  ship  was  in  preparation  for  departure.  He  also 
formed  a  particular  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Ramble,  second 
mate  on  board  the  Main  Chance,  —  a  young  man  of  superior 
education  and  congenial  disposition,  who  promised  to- commu 
nicate  to  him  whatever  of  interest  he  might  find  in  the  voy 
age.  Harry  witnessed  the  celebration  of  the  departure  of  the 
missionaries,  and  helped  sing  the  parting  hymn. 

"  I  must  leave  you,  I  must  leave  you, 
Far  in  heathen  lands  to  dwell," 


WOLFSDEN.  175 

But  Mr.  Twangson  did  not  dwell  long  in  heathen  lands  ; 
for  he  had  returned,  some  few  months  since,  to  recruit  his 
health,  and  awaken  missionary  zeal  at  home,  by  telling  hia 
experiences  among  the  heathen.  Harry  had  already  been  in 
formed,  through  Mr.  Ramble,  of  a  portion  of  his  experiences, 
especially  that  he  had  entered  into  a  matrimonial  engagement 
with  Miss  Xeverspin,  which  was  to  be  fulfilled  on  his  return. 
Harry,  of  course,  hated  the  missionary  who  had  thus  sup 
planted  him.  Not  that  his  heart  was  wounded  by  Miss 
Neverspin's  inconstancy ;  for  his  own  tender  remembrance,  as 
well  as  his  missionary  zeal,  had  faded  away  long  ago.  But 
it  was  provoking  to  have  the  tender  reminiscences  recalled  by 
the  presence  of  his  successor.  Therefore,  though  having  no 
real  cause  of  provocation,  he  felt  a  kind  of  good-natured 
malice  against  the  missionary,  as  though  he  should  like  to  see 
him  "  cornered,"  or  upset  in  a  snowdrift,  or  something  of  the 
sort,  which  might  ruffle  but  not  hurt  him. 

The  missionary  performed  the  services  of  the  day  with 
the  grace  and  readiness  which  habit  gives.  He  depicted  in 
gloomy  colors  the  degradation  of  savage  life  before  the 
advent  of  the  missionaries,  and  summed  up  the  countless  loss 
of  souls  through  idolatry  and  want  of  Christian  instruction. 
He  spoke  in  general  terms  of  the  sacrifices  and  privations  of 
the  missionaries'  life,  separated  from  native  land  and  cultivated 
society  ;  but  represented  them  as  willing  to  do  and  suffer  all, 
for  the  souls  of  the  heathen,  of  whose  worth  he  made  a  high 
estimate,  and  by  a  plain  arithmetical  process  proved  the 
profits  of  their  redemption.  He  earnestly  recommended  the 
formation  of  a  union  missionary  society,  auxiliary  to  the 
American  Board,  to  be  aided  by  a  sewing-circle  of  the  ladies; 
and  also  the  children  should  be  permitted  and  encouraged  tc 


176  WOLFSDEN. 

help  by  the  cent-a-week  plan,  upon  which  "  infant  offerings  " 
he  laid  much  stress;  and,  by  his' economical  calculations  and 
pathetic  appeals,  he  persuaded  many  a  tender  mind  to  forego 
the  customary  stick  of  candy, —  the  cost  of  which  might  prove, 
in  some  future  age  of  eternity,  to  have  been  the  price  of  a  soul, 
—  and  to  put  the  money  into  the  mission-box,  and  thus  lay 
up  treasures  in  heaven.  By  way  of  exciting  emulation,  he 
gave  accounts  of  the  zeal  and  liberality  of  other  places,  some 
of  which  had  guaranteed  a  certain  sum  annually,  and  some 

had  assumed  the  responsibility  of  educating  and  supporting  a 

' 

missionary  in  the  field.  He  suggested  several  ingenious  ex 
pedients  for  increasing  the  interest  and  swelling  the  contribu 
tions  for  the  cause ;  and  praised  the  memory  of  several  pious 
benefactors,  who  had  left  liberal  bequests  in  their  wills,  thus 
leaving  a  record  which  would  not  be  forgotten  at  the  judg 
ment-day. 

When  he  concluded,  Mr.  Click,  wearing  the  well-pleased 
countenance  of  one  whose  doctrinal  star  is  in  the  ascendant, 
partly  to  signalize  his  triumph,  and  partly  to  show  his  sound 
ness  of  doctrine,  made  a  speech  in  support  of  the  views  of  the 
minister.  The  other  vowels,  partly  to  cover  their  retreat  from 
the  vanquished  field,  and  partly  to  prove  their  independence, 
made  commonplace,  non-committal  speeches.  Mr.  Click, 
wishing  to  pursue  his  victory,  looked  significantly  towards 
Harry,  and  presuming,  from  the  circumstance  of  his  being  a 
divinity  student,  and  a  visitor  at  Deacon  Arbor's,  that  he 
would  be  a  good  ally,  arose,  and  "  hoped  that  the  young 
brother  from  abroad,  who  had  doubtless  given  the  missionary 
subject  his  prayerful  consideration,  would  favor  them  with 
his  views." 

Harry  felt  himself  in  "  a  tight  place."     Without  fault  of 


WOLFSDEN.  177 

his  own  he  was  in  a  wrong  position.  Half  vexed  and  half 
amused  at  the  absurdity  of  the  blunder,  he  resolved  to  right 
himself  in  such  a  way  as  to  throw  the  embarrassment  of  the 
mistake  upon  those  who  had  made  it.  The  meeting  had 
already  assumed  something  of  a  debating  character,  and  there 
fore  the  way  was  open  for  him.  He  felt  stimulated  by  various 
motives,  principally  mischievous,  to  take  the  negative,  in 
opposition  to  the  minister,  who,  he  perceived,  had  not  the 
general  and  zealous  support  of  the  majority. 

He  rose  and  expressed  himself  willing  to  give  his  opinion 
upon  the  subject,  for  he  always  felt  liberal  in  the  way  of  ad 
vice,  however  parsimonious  he  might  be  in  other  matters.  The 
question,  like  all  others  of  a  moral  or  economical  nature,  had 
two  sides,  both  of  which  should  be  fairly  considered  in  mak 
ing  up  judgment.  Religion  is  an  excellent  thing,  especially 
when  it  makes  people  better ;  it  is  good  for  something  when 
it  only  makes  them  appear  better, —  for  decent  hypocrisy  is 
not  so  bad  as  open  profligacy.  It  is  better  that  the  outside 
of  the  cup  and  platter  be  clean  than  to  be  dirty  on  all  sides  ; 
though  it  should  be  considered  that  this  convenience  may  cost 
too  dearly,  as  is  often  the  case  when  things  pass  for  what 
they  are  not,  thereby  shutting  out  the  demand  for  the  true 
article.  "As,"  said  he,  "should  the  people  generally  become 
satisfied  with  a  religion  which  dispenses  with  truth  and  hon 
esty,  and  other  essential  items  of  morality,  perhaps  the  world 
may  be  the  loser  upon  the  whole,  however  some  parties  might 
profit  by  the  traffic."  He  presumed,  however,  it  was  the  gen 
eral  intention  to  send  the  true  article  tp  the  heathen,  whatever 
might  be  kopt  for  home  use.  Still  he  thought  the  expediency 
of  the  enterprise  was  an  open  question.  The  data  roliod  upon 
to  prove  the  economy  of  saving  the  heathen  should  bo  closely 


178  WOLFSDEN. 

examined.  Admitting  their  inestimable  worth,  two  points 
remained  to  be  proved  :  First,  that  their  loss  is  certain  with 
out  missionary  aid,  and  second,  that  missionary  aid  could  save 
them.  Upon  the  first  point  he  would  not  argue,  as  it  involved 
theological v  questions,  which  he  said  emphatically  never  had 
been  his  study.  He  would  only  observe  that  a  very  numerous 
and  respectable  Christian  sect  believed  that  God  would  finally 
save  all  mankind,  and  supported  their  belief  by  Scripture 
(here  Mr.  Cluck,  the  Universalist,  brightened  up) ;  perhaps 
he  would, save  all  who  are  worth  saving,  and  it  would  be  poor 
economy  to  go  further  than  that.  As  God  is  to  be  the  final 
judge,  it  is  right  to  assume  that  he  will  be  a  good  judge,  and, 
if  he  had  decreed  the  utter  reprobation  of  some,  they  might 
depend  that  it  was  for  good  reasons  (here  Mr.  Click,  the  Calvin- 
ist,  looked  approvingly) ;  but  he  was  of  opinion  that  everybody 
would  have  a  fair  chance  for  a  free  choice,  and  would  not  be 
damned  but  by  their  own  free  will  (here  Mr.  Clack,  the  Free 
will  Baptist,  nodded  assent),  and  there  might  be  good  hope  of 
a  good  time  coming,  when  all  the  world,  and  the  isles  of  the 
sea,  would  land  on  Canaan's  happy  shore,  and  shout  glory  to 
God  together.  (Here  Mr.  Clock,  the  Methodist,  fervently 
shouted,  Amen.) 

As  to  the  other  point,  concerning  the  competency  of  the 
missionaries  to  save  the  heathen,  something  might  be  said. 
He  had  received  some  direct  and  reliable  accounts  from  the 
Sandwich  Islands,  the  most  famous  missionary  ground,  which 
showed  that  rather  a  low  morality  prevailed  there,  even  among 
the  most  cherished  converts.  He  proceeded  to  detail  facts  con 
cerning  the  prevalence  of  polygamy,  concubinage,  drunken 
ness,  theft,  serfdom,  compelled  ignorance,  degradation,  and 
subjection  of  the  masses  to  the  irresponsible  and  abusive 


WOLFSDEN.  179 

power  of  the  chiefs,  and  the  absence  generally  of  all  the 
principles  which  Christianity  pretends  to,  and  argued  that 
the  religion  which  did  not  show  better  fruits  in  this  world 
afforded  a  poor  promise  for  the  next,  and  might  be  dear  even 
at  a  cent  a  week.  His  sarcasms  became  so  severe,  that  Mr. 
Twangson,  who  had  for  some  time  been  uneasy,  rose  and  ob 
served  that  the  friend's  remarks  did  not  appear  wholly  appro 
priate  to  the  occasion,  and  that  the  time  had  arrived  for  con 
cluding  the  meeting ;  but  Mr.  Cluck,  the  Universalist,  inter 
rupted  him,  saying  that  the  brother  had  been  invited  to  speak, 
and  must  be  permitted  to  proceed,  adding,  with  emphasis,  that 
this  was  a  free  house  for  all  sides.  Mr.  Twangson,  seeing  no 
remedy,  yielded,  and  Harry  proceeded. 

He  said  that,  even  conceding  the  points  just  argued,  the 
question  remained  whether  a  shorter  and  cheaper  way  of  do 
ing  Jhe  work  might  not  be  adopted.  Why  spend  so  many 
years  and  so  much  money  to  teach  -missionaries  Greek  and 
Hebrew,  to  convert  the  heathen?  Would  not  carpenters,  and 
fishermen,  and  tent-makers,  and  farmers  of  the  right  sort,  do  as 
well  now  as  in  olden  time?  He  considered  it  a  poor  preparation 
for  missionary  hardships,  if  such  there  were  (though  he  had  heard 
of  some  luxuries  on  missionary  ground,  and  had  seen  something 
of  missionary  cabins  and  saloons,  which  gave  him  the  suspi 
cion  that  the  missionary  lot  was  as  good  as  the  average  lot  of 
life).  Yet,  allowing  tho  hardships,  he  thought  a  college  life 
a  poor  preparation  for  them,  not  only  physically,  but  morally. 
He  had  seen  enough  to  know  that.  If  he  had  a  genius  for 
anything,  it  was  for  withstanding  temptation;  but  he  suspected 
that  even  himself  was  less  qualified  to  teach  things  essential 
to  make  the  right  sort  of  men  and  Christians  than  his  friend 
here  (patting  Alek  on  the  shoulder),  who  had  been  brought  up 


180    f  WOLPSDEN. 

in  the  bush,  innocent  of  a  college,  or  than  either  of  the  breth 
ren  who  had  addressed  them,  from  the  pews,  with  so  much 
sound  doctrine. 

The  timely  and  graceful  compliment  to  all  the  vowels  with 
which  Harry  concluded  his  speech  served  to  soften  any  dis 
satisfaction  which  he  might  have  excited  iu  some;  and  Harry, 
though  the  partisan  of  none,  had  succeeded  in  generally  pleas 
ing  or  conciliating  an  audience  made  up  of  adverse  elements. 

Mr.  Twangson,  after  giving  notice  that  he  should  preach 
upon  the  subject  next  Sunday  in  Rev.  Mr.  Boreman's  meet 
ing-house,  and  should  remain  in  town  during  the  week  to  coop 
erate  with  the  friends  of  the  cause,  dismissed  the  meeting. 
Mr.  Chinby  urged  Alek,  with  all  his  company,  to  go  to  his 
house  for  dinner,  and  remain  to  an  evening  concert.  Alek 
declined,  but  suggested  that  his  friend  Harry  might  remain, 
and  he  would  come  for  him,  and  be  present  at  the  concert. 
Harry  consented  to  the  arrangement,  and  presently  was  snugly 
stowed  in  Chinby's  family  sleigh,  with  half  a  dozen  happy- 
looking  Chinbys,  including  the  blue-eyed  daughters,  as  pretty 
and  well-dressed  as  ever.  Chinby's  horse  moved  off  with  his 
load  as  though  he  liked  it.  The  snow  from  his  hoofs  rattled 
against  the  fender,  and  flew  over  the  sleigh.  The  keen  air,  as 
they  glided  rapidly  along,  congealed  their  breath  in  white 
frost  upon  hair  and  eyelashes,  and  gave  a  glowing  red  to 
cheeks  and  noses.  None  the  less  bright  and  happy-looking 
are  the  half-dozen  Chinbys  ;  not  the  less  pretty,  the  blue-eyed 
daughters.  It  is  but  a  mile  in  distance ;  and  in  a  few  minutes 
they  were  at  Chinby's  door.  The  very  door-yard  speaks 
the  character  of  the  man,  — prompt,  provident,  neat,  hospi 
table,  and  happy.  The  ample  wood.pile  rears  itself  a  high  bar 
rier  against  the  biting  north.  On  the  south,  elevated  on 


WOLFSPEN.  181 

ambitious  legs,  the  corn-house  exhibits,  through  latticed  crev 
ices,  ks  golden  stores  of  shining  ears.  Upon  the  east  a  row 
of  barns  and  sheds  form  a  high  enclosure  open  to  the  south, 
where,  in  the  gathered  sunshine,  stately  oxen,  and  quiet  cows, 
and  meek-looking  sheep,  and  querulous  geese,  and  cackling 
hens,  make  a  miscellaneous  assemblage,  among  which  the  self- 
inflated  turkey-cock  struts  and  ruffles  his  feathers  with  the 
well-grounded  pride  of  some  "Ancient  and  Honorable  Artil 
lery  "  officer. 

The  kitchen  receives  us  with  a  cheerful  welcome.  It  is  the 
kitchen,  yet,  for  pleasant  and  inviting  aspect,  it  might  vie 
with  the  proudest  saloon  of  fashion,  so  clean,  so  light,  so 
bright,  so  pure  and  fresh  its  atmosphere.  From  its  wide  fire 
place  the  glowing  heat  radiates  through  the  ample  room,  and 
is  reflected  from  the  white  floor,  and  its  long-worn  but  still 
substantial  furniture.  In  his  round  old  arm-chair,  near  the 
chimney-corner,  sits  the  superannuated  father  and  grandfather 
of  the  family ;  for  Squire  Chinby,  though  sixty  years  old, 
is  but  a  younger  son,  and  Grandfather  Chinby  verges  upon 
his  hundredth  year.  Grandfather  is  quiet,  cheerful,  and 
happy.  He  needs  but  little  help,  though  everybody  wants  to 
help  him-;  for  everybody  honors  him.  He  moves  about  the. 
house,  and  in  pleasant  weather  visits  the  barn  and  the  nearer 
fields.  His  son  the  squire,  though,  in  fact,  needing  no  advice, 
always  asks  his  father  about  the  more  important  farming 
operations ;  and  the  old  man  is  as  clear-headed  as  ever,  and 
often  gives  really  valuable  hints.  He  says  it  is  pretty  late  in 
the  evening  of  life  for  him  to  be  up  ;  but  soon  it  will  be 
morning,  and  then  he  expects  to  be  as  bright  and  early  as  the 
best  of  them. 

Mrs.  Chinby,  wife  of  the  squire,  and  mother  of  the  rest  of  the 
16 


182  WOLFSDEN. 

family,  is  of  delicate  appearance,  and  infirm  health.  She  has 
long  been  unable  to  superintend  her  household  affairs;  but  her 
blue-eyed  daughters,  scarcely  sixteen,  have  for  years  kept 
things  right.  Look  about  you,  and  see  if  anything  is  wrong. 
Every  room  is  as  neat  as  this,  and  always  so.  And  the 
daughters,  do  they  not  look  equally  agreeable?  One  would 
like  to  have  such  daughters  of  his  own ;  or,  at  least,  to  live 
always  with  such  as  these. 

A  pleasant,  mild-looking  man,  of  intellectual  countenance, 
and  more  delicate  appearance  than  is  common  in  the  country, 
is  introduced.  He  reaches  out  his  hand,  and  welcomes  you 
without  rising.  It  is  Charles,  the  squire's  oldest  son,  de 
formed  and  unable  to  walk  from  infancy.  His  chair  is  so 
contrived  that  he  can  move  about  the  room  upon  it ;  and  he 
has  another  for  locomotion  out  of  doors.  He  is  the  school 
master,  shoemaker,  basket-maker,  tailor,  and  universal  genius 
of  the  family  ;  and  often  repairs  watches,  clocks,  and  musical 
instruments,  for  others.  He  is  always  busy,  and,  as  they  say, 
always  just  so;  meaning  always  pleasant  and  agreeable.  He 
has  the  reputation  of  great  learning ;  but  his  learning,  like 
all  his  other  attainments,  is  self-acquired.  Converse  with 
him,  and  your  pity  for  his  infirmity  will  be  forgotten  in 
respect  for  his  knowledge  and  understanding.  Of  all  the 
squire's  family,  none  are  more  highly  prized  than  Charles. 

We  give  this  exact  description  from  real  life,  to  show  the 
position  of  an  independent  Maine  farmer,  of  thrifty  habits 
and  respectable  understanding,  self-cultivated  a  little  beyond 
the  general  average  of  his  neighbors,  but  not  more  so  than  the 
best  of  them.  Without  further  detail,  we  request  the  reader 
to  imagine  whatever  of  comfort,  convenience,  and  luxury,  may 
be  enjoyed  in  that  condition,  under  the  best  circumstances, 


183 


and  he  will  have  a  fair  picture  of  constant  every-day  life  at 
Ghinby's.  Wealth  could  reasonably  desire  nothing  more. 
Wealth  iu  cities  could  not  buy  so  much  ;  for  its  glow  and 
freshness  cannot  be  transferred  thither,  any  more  than  the 
wild  warblings  of  the  birds,  or  first  dewy  fragrance  of  the 
flowers,  or  the  racy  flavor  of  its  summer  fruits. 

Why  should  not  a  true  history,  like  this,  include  an  idea  of 
the  economy  of  country  life.  At  the  risk  of  tediousness,  we 
give  this  plain  account,  believing  it  will  be  of  interest,  and 
perhaps  of  value,  to  some.  Let  us  briefly  finish  it  by  sum 
ming  up  the  cost. 

Squire  Chinby's  farm,  the  only  essential  source  of  all  his 
abundance,  the  ample  and  independent  home  of  his  family, 
yielding  support,  for  successive  generations,  in  sickness  and 
health,  is  valued  at  no  more  than  two  thousand  dollars. 
Surely  it  requires  but  little  wealth,  when  well  employed,  to 
enable  man  to  sustain  the  dignity,  fulfil  the  duties,  and  enjoy 
the  benefits  of  life.  Let  the  anxiously-toiling  and  harassed 
sous  of  trade,  and  slaves  of  city  life,  think  of  this.  Yet, 
should  some  city  wight  feel  disposed  to  break  his  chain,  and 
flee  to  the  freedom  of  a  farm,  let  him  not  deem  himself  at 
once  endowed  with  the  faculties  of  a  Chinby.  As  the  coun 
try  boy  makes  many  blunders  and  provokes  much  derision 
before  he  can  learn  to  prosper  in  the  ways  of  the  city,  so  the 
cit  upon  a  farm,  though  blessed  with  more  self-conceit,  is 
generally  as  unsuccessful  in  his  early  essays,  and  is  some 
times  the  subject  of  similar  though  more  courteously  re 
strained  ridicule. 


CHAPTER    XI. 


WINTER  wanes  from  Wolfsden.  The  bland  gales  of  the 
south  dissolve  his  snowy  mantle.  The  swollen  streams  burst 
his  icy  chains.  The  mayflower  peeps  from  its  leafy  bed  by 
the  sunny  margin  of  the  forest,  or  on  mossy  banks,  diffusing 
sweet  odors.  The  frogs  trill  their  evening  concert,  and  the 
robin  wakes  the  morning  with  a  song.  The  forest  unfolds 
and  spreads  abroad  upon  the  fragrant  air  its  dress  of  leafy 
green,  while  orchards  and  meadows  bring  out  their  vernal 
ornaments  of  bright  blossoms.  Nature  calls  her  children 
forth  to  new  pleasures  and  new  duties.  She  spreads  before 
the  farmer  his  pleasing  and  well-rewarding  work. 

But  the  mind  of  youth  is  often  thrown  from  its  even  and 
well-ordered  balance.  A  single  disappointment,  like  a  stone 
thrown  into  the  placid  lake,  breaks  and  distorts  the  fair  vision 
on  every  side.  Youth  waits  not  its  returning  repose,  but 
turns  impatiently  from  the  no  longer  lovely  view ;  for  experi 
ence  has  not  yet  taught  the  sad  but  salutary  lesson  of  control, 
or  given  the  habit  of  endurance. 

Alek  was  no' longer  satisfied  with  the  pleasures  and  duties, 
the  realities  and  anticipations,  of  his  rural  life.  He  must 
see  the  world,  must  try  its  fortunes,  and  test  his  own  powers. 
His  best  reasonings,  drawn  into  the  channel  of  his  feelings, 


WOLFSDEN.  185 

urged  upon  him  a  new  line  of  action.  He  will  not,  like  the 
unreasoning  brute,  suffer  his  course  of  life  to  be  controlled  by 
circumstance;  for,  even  should  it  chance  to  be  the  best,  the 
merit  of  choice  will  not  be  his.  He  will  examine  the  ways 
of  the  world,  and  choose  as  his  informed  and  ripened  judgment 
shall  decide ;  and  then,  should  he  find  his  present  lot  the 
best,  it  will  be  doubly  so,  for  he  will  know  how  to  value  it. 

He  talked  with  his  father,  and  his  father,  though  wise  in 
experience  and  observation,  considered  the  immaturity  of 
youth,  and  deemed  content  not  too  dearly  purchased  at  the 
expense  of  hard  experience.  He  had  confidence  in  the  dis 
cretion  and  principles  of  his  son,  and  feared  not  to  trust  him 
abroad.  He  preferred,  since  some  opportune  advantages  now 
offered,  that  he  should  go  soon,  trusting  that,  whether  success 
ful  or  not,  he  would  the  sooner  return. 

From  his  mother  he  feared  the  greatest  objections  to  his 
enterprise;  for,  without  her  free  consent,  he  would  not  go, 
and  he  knew  the  strength  of  her  attachment.  He  told  her 
his  thoughts,  his  wishes,  and  plans,  and  she  approved  and 
encouraged  them.  He  understood  her;  he  knew  the  power 
of  her  self-sacrificing  love,  and  he  again  resolved  that  her 
affection  should  ever  find  in  him  a  worthy  object  and  reward. 

It  was  of  a  Sabbath  evening,  a  few  days  before  the  ar 
rangements  of  his  departure  were  completed,  that  she  talked 
with  him  at  length,  and  alone.  Let  the  holy  words  of  a 
mother's  counsel  be  recorded.  They  who  are  already  wise 
enough  may  pass  them  by ;  to  others,  as  to  Alek,  they  may 
be  words  of  salvation. 

"  My  son,"  said  the  mother,  "  you  are  now  going,  without 
experience,  into  a  world  where  the  ways  are  dangerous,  where 
nearly  all  suffer  great  losses,  and  many  are  wholly  lost.  I 
16* 


180  WOLFSDEN. 

have  no  experience  of  the  dangers  you  will  meet ;  but  I  know 
that  they  arc  great,  and  that  those  most  to  be  feared  are 
those  of  which  you  little  think.  I  have  learned  the  means  by 
•which  so  many  young  men,  who  started  in  life  with  every 
hopeful  promise,  have  been  driven  or  deluded  into  ruin.  My 
love  for  you,  my  oldest  son,  the  joy  of  my  early  motherhood, 
and  the  hope  of  my  declining  years,  has  sharpened  my  reflec 
tions,  and  prepared  me  to  say  some  things  to  you,  which 
something  higher  than  my  own  reason  prompts,  and  tells  me 
will  be  useful  to  you.  I  know  that  you,  who  have  always 
shown  your  unbounded  love  for  me,  and  respect  for  my  senti 
ments,  will  give  due  weight  to  all  I  shall  say;  and  that  what 
you  know^to  be  right  you  will  receive  and  cherish  with  still 
more  care  and  fidelity  because  your  mother  enjoins  it.  But 
I  do  not  wish  for  my  influence  to  go  beyond  its  proper  limits. 
I  only  ask,  as  the  extent  of  a  mother's  privilege,  that  what  I 
say  to  you  in  accordance  with  what  you  feel  to  be  right  and 
proper  in  itself  for  you  to  observe,  that  you  will  esteem  it 
still  more  sacred  and  binding  because  of  your  mother ;  so 
that,  if  your  own  good  principles  should  ever  be  in  danger  of 
yielding  in  the  hour  of  strong  temptation,  your  mother's 
memory  and  love  may  come  to  their  aid,  and  save  you.  Will 
you  promise  me  this,  my  son?  " 

"  My  dearest  mother,"  said  Alek,  much  affected,  "  my 
whole  soul  tells  you  YES.  I  think  I  have  better  principles 
and  more  wisdom  to  direct  me  than  most  young  men  who  go 
out  into  the  world  ;  and  it  is  because  I  was  so  fortunate  as 
to  be  born  of  you,  and  be  educated  by  you ;  but  I  should  lose 
all  my  self-respect,  and  all  my  pride  of  parentage,  if  I  should 
find  in  myself  a  disposition  to  undervalue  your  instructions, 
now  that  my  reflection  enables  me  more  than  ever  to  see 


WOLFS  DEN.  187 

their  pure  worth,  and  now  that  I  shall  need  them  more  than 
ever,  when  I  am  away  from  under  your  eye  ;  though,"  con 
tinued  he,  playfully,  "  I  can  hardly  think  that  can  be  the 
case  at  all ;  for  I  know  by  experience  that  your  eye  follows 
me  wherever  I  go.  And  if  I  should  be  tempted  to  do  a 
wrong  thing  a  thousand  miles  off,  I  should  feel  as  if  you 
knew  it." 

"And  be  assured,"  said  the  mother,  "I  should  know  it, — 
at  least,  I  should  fed  it.  It  would  be  like  a  sigh  breathed 
into  my  spirit,  or  a  drop  of  sadness  falling  into  my  heart. 
And  by  this  I  know  that  the  consequences  of  any  sinful  act 
are  eternal.  The  act  may  be  repented  of,  and  the  wound  of 
sin  cured,  but  it  can  never  be  as  if  it  had  never  been.  The 
remembrance  will  always  remain.  How  great  is  the  cost  of 
every  sin  for  which  sorrowful  remembrances  and  regrets  must 
be  paid  forever !  0,  how  desirable  to  pass  through  this  life 
so  as  to  have  no  cause  for  regret  in  the  life  to  come  !  Before 
your  birth,  how  anxious  I  was  that  you  should  come  into  the 
world  a  fair  and  unblemished  child ;  but  how  much  more  do 
I  hope  and  pray  that,  when  this  mortal  life  is  done,  you  may 
be  born  into  the  immortal  world  a  pure  and  unblemished 
spirit !  You  have,  thus  far,  fulfilled  my  hopes,  and  filled 
my  heart  with  joy  and  pride;  and  I  trust  that  in  all  the  eternity, 
of  which  this  life  is  to  us  the  beginning,  I  shall  forever  rejoice 
in  you." 

"  Dearest  mother,"  said  Alek,  "  if  I  should  ever  forget  to 
value  my  eternal  welfare  for  my  own  sake,  I  shall,  at  least, 
remember  it,  and  strive  for  it,  for  yours.  It  would  make  even 
heaven  uncomfortable  to  remember  that  I  had  slighted  your 
admonitions,  or  failed  to  fulfil  all  you  expect  of  me." 

"  1  have,"  said  the  mother,  "  thought  for  a  long  while  of 


188  1VOLFSDEN.       • 

what  I  shall  now  say  to  you ;  for  I  have  anticipated  this  hour 
of  separation  long  before  you  thought  of  it.  There  is  noth 
ing  marvellous  in  this.  The  mother's  instinct,  deepened  by 
reflection,  and  elevated  by  prayer,  is  sufficient  to  account  for 
what  might  seem  prophetic  foresight.  I  have  long  known,  in 
my  heart,  that  your  path  of  life  would  lead  you  away  from 
your  mother's  side,  into  scenes  and  circumstances  different 
from  anything  we  know  of.  The  thought  has  lain,  heavily 
upon  my  heart  when  your  heart  was  light ;  but  I  have  felt 
sustained  by  an  abiding  confidence  that  the  God  of  your 
father  and  mother,  and  of  your  blessed  grandparents,  will 
also  be  your  God,  and  that  you  will  not  forsake  him." 

"  Beloved  mother,"  replied  Alek,  "  if  every  other  bond 
which  binds  me  to  God  and  my  duty  shall  fail,  my  mother's 
memory,  her  prayers,  and  her  love,  shall  still  hold  me  from 
falling  away.  I  hope  that  I  may  have  grace  to  love  and 
obey  God  from  still  higher  principles ;  and  till  then  I  will 
love  and  obey  him  from  love  and  obedience  to  you." 

"  My  precepts,"  continued  the  mother,  "  will  now  be  few, 
and  chiefly  on  one  point,  of  which  mothers  seldom  speak  to 
their  sons,  and  too  seldom  even  to  their  daughters.  On  other 
topics  I  have  so  carefully  instructed  you,  that  you  know  my 
whole  mind,  and  have  profited  by  it  in  forming  yours.  You 
have  come  to  the  age,  and  the  maturity  of  thought  and 
reflection,  when  boyish  follies  and  indiscretions  are  no  longer 
likely  to  degrade  you.  You  have  too  much  self-respect  and 
nobleness  of  nature  to  allow  anger,  or  envy,  or  mean  ambi 
tions,  or  jealousies,  or  fear  of  the  censure  or  ridicule  of 
others,  to  make  you  do  a  wrong  act,  nourish  an  unworthy 
feeling,  or  neglect  a  known  duty.  You  know  and  I  think 
coincide  with  my  religious  views,  which  partake  largely 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  X  .  189 

of  the  sentiments  of  our  Quaker  ancestors.  The  Scriptures 
you  will  continue  to  study ;  for  they  teach  of  wonderful  deal 
ings  of  God  with  men,  which  cannot  elsewhere  be  learned. 
You  will  ever  reverence  the  teachings  of  Him  who  spake  as 
never  man  spake,  and  fix  them  on  your  memory  and  heart,  as 
the  sure  guide  of  life.  But  the  -most  noble  result  of  this 
study  will  be  the  nourishing  in  your  heart  of  the  inward 
light,  superior  to  all  other  guides,  and  without  which  even 
the  Scriptures  are  vain.  That  is  the  SPIRIT,  which  shall  lead 
you  into  all  truth.  It  is  the  voice  of  the  Shepherd.  If  you 
watch,  you  will  know  his  voice.  Fear  not  to  follow  it.  It  is 
more  certain  even  than  the  written  word ;  for  this  may  be 
misinterpreted,  but  the  voice  of  God,  speaking  through  a 
pure  and  cultivated  conscience,  kept  awake  by  constant 
watchfulness  and  obedience  to  its  teachings,  will  never  per 
mit  you  to  be  led  astray.  It  is  only  by  turning  away  from 
this  light  that  you  can  fall. 

"  The  danger  which  I  fear  for  you  is  one  into  which  many 
noble  and  gifted  men  have  fallen ;  and  their  nobleness  and 
their  gifts  have  become  degraded  and  lost.  Even  the  best 
and  most  generous  feelings  of  your  nature,  which  would  keep 
you  from  falling  into  other  dangers,  may,  in  some  circum 
stances,  be  a  snare  to  lead  you  into  this. 

"  My  son,  be  pure.  Keep  your  soul  free  from  the  pollu 
tion  of  an  unchaste  emotion.  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart, 
for  they  shall  see  God.  The  pure  in  heart  always  see  him. 
His  light  shines  within  and  about  them,  and  they  walk  with 
him.  0,  how  noble  and  blessed  they  become  who  always 
Walk  with  him  !  But,  alas  !  how  many  and  how  alluring 
are  the  temptations  which  lead  astray !  They  often  seem 
innocent  when  most  to  be  feared.  The  way  seemeth  right 


190  WOLFSDEN. 

when  the  end  thereof  is  death.  Venture  not  near  that  dan 
gerous  boundary  where  virtue  relaxes  into  the  fashions  of  vice, 
and  vice  puts  on  the  pretences  of  virtue.  Enter  into  a  holy 
covenant  with  your  mother,  and  your  own  soul,  and  with  God, 
that  you  will  shun  every  path  which  leads  into  this  tempta 
tion  ;  that,  as  soon  as  you  see  the  first  approaches  of  that 
sin,  you  will  turn  from  it.  To  your  own  soul,  and  your 
mother,  and  God,  will  you  promise  this  ?  " 

"  I  will,"  said  Alek.  His  voice  was  deep ;  so  was  his 
resolve. 

"  And  may  God  give  you  discernment  and  strength  to 
truly  keep  this  covenant ! 

"  Your  enlightened  judgment  and  conscientious  reflection 
will  guide  you  to  a  right  application  of  these  principles.  To 
the  society  of  pure  and  elevated  women,  even  the  beautiful 
and  accomplished,  I  would  gladly  commit,  not  only  the  form 
ing  of  your  manners,  but  also  the  cultivation  of  those  quali 
ties  of  mind  which  make  men  amiable,  as  well  as  good.  The 
purest  and  most  refining  human  influence  comes  from  refined 
and  virtuous  women.  The  best  men  are  far  inferior  in  their 
goodness  to  the  best  women,  and  have  far  less  power  to  in 
fluence  others  to  goodness.  I  have  sometimes  thought  that  our 
Saviour  took  the  form  of  a  man,  rather  than  woman,  that  he 
might  show  how  grace  can  elevate  that  form  of  humanity 
which  has  the  least  of  native  goodness. 

"  Men  naturally  expect  women  to  be  more  virtuous  than 
themselves,  and  it  therefore  is  that  an  indiscreet  or  wanton 
woman  is  so  dangerous ;  for  even  men,  who  by  themselves 
and  others  are  accounted  virtuous,  seem  to  think  woman 
alone  the  guardian  of  that  purity  for  which  both  men  and 
women  are  justly  and  equally  responsible,  and  will  therefore 


Vf  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  .  191 

approach  as  near  the  boundary  of  vice  as  she  will  peruit 
Let  this  base  weakness  never  influence  your  conduct ;  and  let 
this  be  your  rule,  the  best  that  my  inexperience  in  this  matter 
can  suggest :  that  you  will  never  approach  to  a  conduct, 
utter  an  expression,  or  even  indulge  a  thought,  which  you 
would  be  unwilling  to  have  your  mother  and  sisters  know  ; 
and  that,  if  you  shall  find  yourself  in  any  society,  however 
attractive,  where  you  shall  be  in  danger  of  violating  this 
rule,  you  will  give  it  up  at  once,  and  avoid  it  henceforth. 
In  so  doing,"  said  the  mother,  "  God  will  reward  you. 
In  due  time  you  will  be  crowned  with  all  the  happiness  he 
designs  for  our  mortal  estate.  You  will  know  what  woman 
is  worth  when  God  shall  lead  you  in  the  way  of  one  whom 
you  shall  first  understand,  and  then  honor,  and  then  esteem, 
and  then  love,  and  who  will  understand,  and  honor,  and 
esteem,  and  love  you.  Love  which  is  built  on  these  found 
ations  is  durable  and  happy.  Domestic  life,  which  is 
bound  up  in  such  a  love,  is  the  highest  of  earthly  happiness, 
and  the  most  advantageous  state  of  preparation  for  eternal 
happiness.  I  trust  that  you  will  so  wisely  and  truly  live  as 
to  secure  both." 

They  sat  in  silence  many  minutes.  At  length  the  mother 
rose,  and,  placing  her  hands  on  Alek's  hea'd,  and  parting  his 
hair,  said :  "  My  son,  we  have  still  some  days  to  be  together, 
but  remember  this  as  our  parting  interview,  and  let  all  that  we 
have  now  said  be  treasured  in  your  heart.  Farewell,  my 
son  ;  may  the  blessing  of  the  God  of  thy  fathers  be  with  thee, 
and  bring  thee  again  in  peace  !  " 

And,  with  a  parting  kiss,  she  went  cheerfully  from  the  room. 

Harry  had  now  left  Wolfsden.  His  enforced  indulgence 
of  absence  terminated  several  weeks  since,  and  he  returned 


192  WOLFSDEN. 

to  college  life,  but  not  to  the  college  of  frivolities  and  dissipa 
tion  which  he  so  unwillingly  left.  The  professors  and  tutors 
were  surprised  at  his  thoughtful  and  earnest  manner  and 
manly  bearing,  and  reflected  with  self-complacency  upon  the 
salutary  effects  of  their  admonition,  and  the  benefit  of  their 
discipline.  Could  they  know  the  source  of  his  reform,  they 
•would  say  that  a  wilder  folly,  like  a  stronger  evil  spirit,  had 
driven  out  the  lesser  demons,  and  taken  sole  possession. 

Harry's  elevated  reputation,  wherewith  he  was  so  gratui 
tously  honored  on  his  arrival  in  Wolfsden,  was  quite  as  un 
ceremoniously  shorn  from  him  before  his  departure.  The 
good  name,  which  is  better  than  precious  ointment,  is  often 
a  precarious  possession  among  those  good  folks  who  have 
naught  to  do  but  mark  and  tell  their  neighbors'  faults  and 
folly.  The  voyager,  who  finds  the  sea  always  smooth  and 
the  winds  always  favorable,  either  sails  in  a  very  large  ship, 
or  steers  a  very  crooked  course.  It  was  not  Harry's 
genius  to  mind  the  winds  and  courses  much.  He  took  no 
pains  to  preserve  his  unexpected  honors,  and  no  wonder  he 
lost  them.  His  exposition  of  doctrines  at  Chinby's  Meeting 
house,  though  original  and  able,  was  not  thought  to  be  "  to 
edification  ;  "  in  short,  it  was  unlucky.  To  expose  the  folly 
of  the  eminently  good,  is  often  to  excite  their  animosity. 

Mr.  Twangson  had  good  reasons,  or,  at  least,  strong 
motives,  to  rebuke  the  presumption  of  the  young  man  who 
had  so  audaciously  disputed  the  prerogative  of  infallibility 
which  pertains  to  a  missionary  as  surely  as  to  the  Pope. 
He  soon  learned  Harry's  history  as  understood  in  Wolfsden  ; 
and,  by  direct  inquiry  of  Uncle  Timothy,  at  Deacon  Arbor's, 
he  found  out  the  cause  of  his  absence  from  his  class  in  col 
lege.  He  then  expatiated  with  severity  upon  the  depravity 


V, '  O  L  F  5  D  E  N  .  193 

manifested,  when  a  person  in  his  position,  under  censure  for 
bad  conduct,  assumes  a  religious  character  for  a  cloak  under 
which  to  attack  the  most  sacred  institutions. 

Deacon  Arbor  and  his  family,  who  had  now  become  well 
acquainted  with  Harry's  frank  and  open  disposition,  and  who 
knew  all  the  circumstances  of  the  debate  at  the  North  Meet 
ing-house,  could  not  iail  to  perceive  that  personal  feelings 
entered  somewhat  into  the  missionary's  maledictions,  and 
therefore  kept  their  own  opinion  ;  but  with  Parson  Boremau, 
Deacon  Murray,  Mrs.  Simperkins,  and  other  elders,  the  mis 
sionary  had  it  all  his  own  way,  and  Harry  was  denounced 
and  anathematized  where  he  hud  been  most  zealously  lauded 
and  magnified.  The  parson,  who  remembered  with  angry  mor 
tification  that  he  had  taken  special  pains  to  propitiate  him, 
besides  having  invited  him  to  his  pulpit,  felt  the  holy  horror 
and  indignation  of  one  who  has  taken  a  viper  to  his  bosom 
unawares.  Mrs.  Simperkins  said  it  was  the  weriest  piece  of 
himposition  that  hever  come  hunder  er  hobservation.  Poor 
Mrs.  Simperkins  had  many  mortifying  remembrances  with 
which  to  nurse  her  wrath  and  keep  it  warm ;  and  not  even  the 
remembrance  of  being  honored  with  Harry's  Latin  and  Greek 
could  mollify  her.  She  could  not  assert  that  he  had  claimed 
to  be  a  divinity  student,  yet  she  insisted  that  he  had  assumed 
the  character  and  conversation  of  one,  on  purpose  to  deceive 
her  and  others;  and  to  this  view  the  parson  and  major  both 
assented,  for  why  else  had  he  not  declared  himself  when 
invited  to  the  pulpit?  Deacon  Arbor's  good  opinion  of  his 
guest  was  set  down  to  his  own  faulty  good-nature,  which  was 
always  seeking  excuses  for  everybody ;  and  it  was  feared  that 
the  deacon,  though  sound,  was  not  too  well  grounded  in  the 
doctrine  of  total  depravity.  The  deacon  was  compelled  to  own 
17 


194  WOLFSDEN. 

that  Harry  had  knelt  on  occasion  of  family  prayer,  which 
they  considered  tantamount  in  him  to  a  hypocritical  profes 
sion  of  religion,  or  a  contemptuous  mockery  of  it.  Deacon 
Murray's  deep  and  settled  principles  of  doctrine  and  preju 
dice  were  as  grappling-irons  and  cables,  to  hold  Harry's  soul 
in  the  predestined  pit  of  perpetual  perdition. 

The  busy  world  made  its  comments  upon  this  repudiation 
by  the  church,  according  to  the  previous  feelings  of  individ 
uals.  Some,  who  had  envied  Harry's  honors,  felt  gratified 
at  seeing  his  reputation  so  suddenly  rent  to  rags,  and  the 
divinity  student  proved  to  be  no  better  than  themselves. 
Others,  who  really  liked  him,  but  supposed  that  he  had  in 
tentionally  put  on  the  pretence  of  piety  for  the  sake  of  mis 
chief,  laughed  at  the  joke  by  which  "  the  elect "  had  been 
"quizzed ;  while  others,  of  a  higher  character,  who  had  an 
esteem  for  him,  and  knew  not  the  facts,  regretted  the  deceit 
ful  part  they  supposed  him  to  have  acted.  Margaret,  espe 
cially,  was  astonished  at  the  development  of  the  wolf  from 
the  garb  of  the  lamb,  as  the  missionary  expressed  it ;  and  felt 
all  the  sincere  regret  of  a  delicate  mind,  on  finding  duplicity 
in  one  whom  she  had  believed  worthy  of  all  confidence  and 
honor. 

But  Harry  did  not  remain  long  enough  to  observe  the 
regretful  or  averted  looks  of  former  friends.  In  Deacon 
Arbor's  family  he  was  as  well  regarded  as  ever ;  and  in  a 
few  days  his  pleasant  visit  at  Wolfsden  terminated.  During 
this  time,  he  had  learned  of  Alek  his  determination  to  travel 
and  seek  his  fortune ;  and  had  given  him  much  wise  advice, 
drawn  from  his  own  experience,  and  such  as  might  formerly 
have  been  profitably  adopted  by  himself,  however  little 
adapted  to.Alek's  probable  contingencies,  —  in  addition  to 


W  0  L  J?  S  D  K  N  .  195 

which,  he  gave  him  the  more  promising  benefit  of  an  earnest 
introduction  to  his  uncle  in  New  York,  with  whom,  notwith 
standing  his  irregularities,  he  still  had  some  influence. 

Dressed  in  a  new  and  substantial  suit  of  clothes,  in  which 
a  city  tailor  might  perhaps  see  something  to  remind  him  of 
the  description  of  Yankee  Doodle's  dress,  bating  the  striped 
trousers,  with  a  bundle  under  his  arm,  and  a  stout  staff  in 
his  hand,  and  a  leathern  pocket-book  weighty  with  silver 
coin,  tokens  of  love  and  resources  in  exigency,  Alek  departed 
from  his  home  on  foot  and  alone.  He  could  have  commanded 
an  escort  of  friends  and  horses,  but  he  determined  to  begin 
as  he  expected  to  go  on.  Adopting  Harry's  phrase,  he  said 
it  was  his  genius  to  go  away  on  foot ;  and  if  his  genius 
should  find  horses  and  coaches  for  him,  he  would  come  back 
in  different  style ;  otherwise,  his  return,  however  humble, 
should  not  shame  his  departure.  His  friends  were  satisfied 
with  his  reasons  and  his  resolution.  He  departed  laden  with 
blessings,  prayers,  and  prophecies  of  good. 

The  freshness  of  early  morning  strengthened  the  elasticity 
of  his  vigorous  frame  and  youthful  spirits.  His  firm  resolve 
fortified  his  heart  against  the  weakness  of  regret.  The  many- 
linked  chain  of  home  affections  and  habitudes  he  might  not 
break,  but  he  was  strong  to  drag  its  increasing  length.  The 
conscious  heaviness  upon  his  heart  he  would  not  throw  off,  if 
he  could  ;  for  he  felt  that,  like  the  dollars  in  his  pocket,  it  was 
a  salutary  weight.  His  countenance  was  not  the  less  bright 
nor  his  step  less  light. 

Of  the  younger  ones  left  behind,  he  foresaw  the  most  trou 
blesome  parting  with  little  Amy,  for  she  would  cling  to  hia 
neck,  and  insist  that  he  should  not  go  ;  therefore  he  started 
the  earlier,  and  passed  Colonel  Bowler's  before  the  family 


196  WOLFSDEN. 

had  risen,  and  Amy  only  knew  he  was  gone  when  Fanny 
came  over,  after  breakfast,  to  give  the  present  and  the  kiss  he 
had  left  for  her.  Alek  was  already  many  miles  away,  for 
he  walked  like  the  man  in  Bunyan's  Dream,  who  believed  the 
avenger  of  blood  to  be  pursuing  him,  or  rather  as  one  whose 
resolution  is  wound  up  so  tightly  that  his  body  must  go,  per 
force.  His  path  first  lay  across  the  pasture  and  woods,  by 
which  he  saved  a  long  distance ;  after  which,  he  pursued  the 
crooked  and  irregular  yet  generally  smooth  and  pleasant 
road,  which  follows  the  Saco's  winding  stream,  along  green 
banks  or  through  dark  woods,  or  often  among  abrupt  and 
precipitous  rocks,  where  a  traveller  is  seldom  seen.  The 
robin  welcomed  him  with  her  brisk  and  cheerful  morning 
melody.  The  squirrel,  perched  on  a  projecting  bough,  chat 
tered  an  angry  remonstrance  at  his  approach.  The  distant 
quail  still  at  intervals  recalled  in  mournful  monotony  the 
remembrance  of  Poor-Bob-White.  Yet  on  moved  Alek,  un 
mindful  of  the  morning  melody,  the  angry  clamor,  or  the 
mournful  monotony.  His  soul  was  absorbed  in  contempla 
tions  too  deep  to  be  disturbed  by  external  sights  or  sounds. 

The  sun  rose  high,  and  exhaled  the  dew.  The  road 
wound  along  a  high  embankment,  which  rose  upon  the  right 
towards  a  precipitous  hill  of  rifted  granite,  where  the  broken 
and  cavernous  sides  sometimes  gave  root  to  a  tall,  waving 
pine,  or  a  spreading  beech,  but  where  mostly  the  sharp  rocks 
elevated  their  points  above  the  scanty  shrubs  of  dwarf  oak 
and  white  birch.  On  the  left,  the  river  stretched  its  silvery 
line  far  away  toward  the  south,  often  losing  itself,  and  still 
returning  to  view,  —  now  with  gentle  embrace  surrounding 
little  isfands,  and  lingering  lovingly  among  green  meadows, 
and  anon  sweeping  rapidly  by  the  base  of  overshadowing 


WOLFSDEX.  197 

hills,  and  leaping  with  foaming  fury  along  its  narrow  and 
shelvy  channel. 

A  rocky  rivulet,  dashing  from  among  the  cliffs  upon  the 
right,  glided  with  a  gentler  but  still  rapid  flow  along  its 
rough  bed,  and  gave  its  slight  but  constant  tribute  to  the 
sovereign  stream.  A  shady  nook  upon  its  margin  invited 
repose.  Exercise  had  sharpened  appetite ;  and  Alek  sat 
down  by  the  rivulet,  beneath  an  overhanging  beech,  and 
spread  out  the  plentiful  and  inviting  repast  provided  by  lov 
ing  hands.  He  ate  with  a  good  will,  and  drank  from  the 
cool  waters.  He  reclined  upon  the  mossy  margin,  and  in 
dulged  reveries  of  the  home  from  which  he  was  now  a  wan 
derer,  and  of  joys  and  hopes  now  departed.  He  thought  of 
the  vicissitudes,  the  efforts,  the  possibilities  and  uncertainties, 
to  come. 

The  soft  murmur  of  the  stream,  the  drowsy  hum  of  busy 
insects,  the  hollow  drum  of  the  partridge  far  in  the  woods, 
the  stillness  of  the  air,  the  sultry  heat  of  the  sun,  and  the 
refreshing  coolness  of  the  shade,  combined  to  prolong  his  rest. 
Sleep,  of  late  defrauded  of  its  due,  now  stole  upon  him  una 
wares.  The  unguided  current  of  his  busy  thought  still  moved 
on,  and  in  fancy  he  still  pursued  his  uncertain  way.  Diffi 
culties  and  dangers  obstructed  him,  but  were  magically  sur 
mounted  and  overborne.  Bright  visions  of  prosperity  sur 
rounded  him.  He  found  himself  the  favorite  of  fortune,  and 
the  companion  of  fortune's  favorites.  The  latent  feeling  of 
doubt  that  there  might  be  fallacy  in  what  seemed  so  fair, 
gradually  gave  way  to  assurance  and  security.  He  congrat 
ulated  himself  upon  the  self-discerning  merit  which  at  length 
had  raised  him  to  his  proper  sphere. 

Still  there  were  incongruities  in  his  position  which  per 
17* 


198  WOLFSDEN. 

plexed  him.  He  wished  to  justify  to  himself  and  others  his 
self-estimate  and  his  fame  by  great  deeds,  but  found  not  the 
opportunity.  It  was  in  the  dim  past  that  his  claims  of  merit 
lay,  or  in  some  great  thing  which  he  was  about  to  accom 
plish  ;  yet  he  could  not  remember  what  it  was  that  he  had 
achieved,  or  was  yet  to  achieve.  He  received  praises  and 
honors  with  pain,  fearing  that,  after  all,  they  might  belong  to 
another ;  and  he  dreaded  the  moment  when  the  mistake 
should  be  discovered,  but  found  no  friend  to  aid  him  with 
explanation  or  advice.  Like  a  monarch  doubtful  of  the 
allegiance  of  his  subjects,  and  distrusting  most  of  all  his 
obsequious  servants  and  flatterers,  he  secretly  regretted  his 
miserable  splendor. 

A  lovely  female  form,  blending  the  fair  proportions  and 
dignified  grace  of  Margaret  with  a  softer  beauty,  and  a 
strange  and  incomprehensible  kindness  and  condescension,  as 
if  to  atone  for  past  coldness,  hovered  about  him,  ever  dis 
playing  new  fascinations.  His  mother's  hallowed  counsel 
girded  him  about  with  a  panoply  which  no  seductions  could 
penetrate.  Yet  he  felt  ashamed  of  his  reserve,  lest  it  might 
be  mistaken  for  clownishness,  and  timidly  relaxed  his  rigor. 
He  gave  smile  for  smile,  endearment  for  endearment,  and 
caress  for  caress.  Suddenly  a  strange  sense  of  danger  star 
tled  him.  He  turned  and  saw  in  the  shadow  of  his  fair  com 
panion  the  grim  and  fearful  form  of  death,  with  upraised 
dart,  in  attitude  to  strike.  He  started  with  horror,  and  his 
dream  was  gone.  His  head  reclined  against  the  smooth  rind 
of  the  overshadowing  beech,  but  still  the  sense  of  danger 
thrilled  his  nerves.  He  turned  his  head  and  moved  his 
hands,  to  assure  himself  of  his  position,  for  he  was  yet 
scarcely  awake.  Instantly  a  sharp  and  prolonged  rattling 


WOLFSDEN.  19D 

noise,  near  his  side,  startled  him.  With  instinctive  horror, 
he  threw  himself,  by  a  sudden  impulse  of  his  body,  to  a  dis 
tance  of  several  feet  in  the  opposite  direction,  and  was  in 
stantly  erect  and  facing  the  deadly  peril.  It  was  the  fatal 
rattlesnake.  With  head  raised  above  its  coiled  body,  and 
with  flashing  eyes,  he  was  in  the  instant  preparation  for  the 
deadly  spring.  But  Alek  was  now  at  a  safe  distance.  By 
a  hairbreadth  of  space,  and  a  point  of  time,  he  had  escaped 
a  horrible  death.  His  nerves  were  strung  to  the  tension  that 
comes  only  when  men  are  surest  of  what  they  attempt.  He 
seized  a  stone,  and  threw  it  with  the  force  and  precision  of  a 
rifle,  and  the  reptile's  head  was  dashed  from  its  writhing  body. 
He  then  looked  cautiously  about,  but  no  mate  of  the  hideous 
reptile  was  in  sight.  With  fervent  devotion,  he  knelt  and 
thanked  his  Maker  for  his  preservation,  and  prayed  that  the 
lesson  of  his  dream  and  his  danger,  whatever  it  might  be 
designed  to  teach,  might  not  be  lost  upon  him.  He  then 
hung  up  the  lifeless  reptile  by  the  road-side,  as  a  warning  to 
other  travellers  not  to  rest  in  the  dangerous  place,  and  pur 
sued  his  way. 


CHAPTER    XII. 


THE  reader,  if  a  "  friend  of  humanity,"  remembers  the  poor 
hut  of  Bang,  and  his  deserted  forge,  and  sorry  cow,  and  dis 
contented  pig,  upon  whose  forlorn  lot  we  cast  a  passing 
glance,  while  buffeting  the  storm  and  breaking  the  road  on 
the  day  before  the  new  year.  The  only  pleasant  thing  we 
saw  about  the  cheerless  dwelling  was  the  brave  face  of  the 
boy  Ax,  the  youngest  son  of  Bang,  who,  with  stocking  upon 
his  head  and  new  boots  on  his  feet,  reinforced  our  party. 
We  have  since  met  with  Ax  in  the  schoolmaster's  story,  but 
have  hitherto  necessarily  delayed  the  history  of  the  family, 
which,  as  an  essential  part  of  this  impartial  record,  can  no 
longer  be  neglected. 

Twenty-five  years  ago,  Mr.  Benjamin  Barker  married  Miss 
Susan  Twist.  So  were  the  names  spelt  in  the  town-clerk's 
publishment ;  and  so  were  they  pronounced  by  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Boreman,  who  solemnized  the  bans;  that  is,  who  pronounced 
them  man  and  wife,  and,  over  a  glass  of  toddy,  wished  them 
good  luck.  That  was  a  jolly  evening.  The  ceremony  was 
performed  at  Colonel  Bowler's,  and  young  folks  and  old 
folks,  parson  and  all,  had  a  good  time.  To  the  principal 
parties  the  good  time  lasted  some  half  a  dozen  years,  with 
occasional  interruptions,  growing  more  frequent  and  serious, 


W  0  L  F  S  B  E  X  .  201 

till  at  any  time  within  twenty  years  the  good  time  was 
all  gone,  and  all  times  were  bad  at  Bang's.  For  now 
everybody  called  kiin  Bang,  and  he  had  come  to  call  himself 
Bang. 

In  the  first  bright  beginning  of  his  career,  he  had  pro 
cured  a  new  sign,  on  which  a  rampant  red  horse  was  painted, 
with  himself  in  the  act  of  shoeing  him  ;  and  underneath,  in 
letters  as  large  as  the  sign  would  hold,  and  bright  as  red 
ochre  and  oil  could  make,  was  painted,  B.  BARKER, 
BLACKSMITH.  The  sign  did  not  overstate  the  owner's 
merits.  He  was  a  blacksmith,  every  inch,  and  his  inches 
were  many.  From  a  jewsharp  to  a  ploughshare,  from  a  peg 
ging-awl  to  a  bear-trap,  nothing  was  beyond  his  skill ;  but 
he  prided  himself  most  in  his  superior  success  in  shoeing 
horses  and  oxen,  and  tempering  axes.  Custom  came  in 
plenty.  His  hammer's  ring  might  ever  be  heard  from  dewy 
morn  till  dusky  eve  ;  and  none  made  money  faster  than  "  B. 
Barker,  Blacksmith."  Mrs.  Susan  Barker,  to  use  teamster's 
phrase,  kept  up  her  end  of  the  yoke.  She  had  been  for  sev 
eral  years  the  principal  tailoress  in  town.  Deacon  Arbor  has 
still  a  great-coat  with  two  great  capes,  made  by  Susan,  a  lit 
tle  before  she  had  taken  upon  herself  the  dignities  of  married 
life,  unknowing  what  indignities  were  to  follow.  If  activity 
in  all  domestic  duties  could  make  a  good  housewife,  Susan 
was  a  pattern  to  housewives.  Everybody  said  she  was  as 
"  smart  as  a  steel-trap,"  and  was  born  to  make  her  way  in 
the  world.  The  description  of  her  qualities  was  true,  but 
the  prophecy  of  her  success  was  a  failure.  Whether  the 
milder  and  more  endearing  qualities  of  womanhood,  if  she 
had  possessed  them,  would  have  improved  her  condition,  may 
not  be  provable ;  but  certainly  there  was  an  abundant  lack 


202  WOLPSDEN. 

in  her  dwelling  of  those  gentle  influences  which  make  home 
the  nursery  of  good  habits.  And  yet  there  was  no  lack  of 
religion  among  her  elements.  She  had  experienced  religion 
when  young,  and  joined  Parson  Boremari's  church  ;  and  for 
many  years  before  her  marriage,  and  several  years  afterward, 
was  prominent  and  zealous  in  all  church  matters,  pushing 
forward  all  sorts  of  movements  favored  or  tacitly  allowed  by 
the  minister, —  such  as  begging  subscriptions  for  a  bell ;  start 
ing  the  Sunday-school,  where  little  boys  and  girls  recited 
whole  chapters  of  the  Bible,  in  competition  for  the  picture- 
books  which  should  reward  the  most  successful,  and  excite 
the  angry  discontent  of  the  unsuccessful  competitors ;  set 
tling  the  disturbances  of  the  musical  choir,  self-styled  the 
"  Philharmonic  Band,"  whose  inharmonic  bickerings  were 
frequently  felt,  in  dissonant  undulations,  from  the  centre  to 
the  furthest  verge  of  the  society. 

Some  movements  in  which  her  influence  was  not  allowed 
its  accustomed  weight  had  long  ago  offended  her,  and  she 
had  withdrawn  in  dudgeon  from  active  interference  in  church 
and  parish  affairs  ;  not,  however,  till  a  little  before  the  birth 
of  her  fourth  son.  To  the  preceding  three  she  had  given 
the  evangelical  names  of  Matthew,  Mark,  and  Luke,  and  her 
fourth  was  in  due  time  christened  John.  The  joke  then 
passed  round,  that  the  next  one  was  predestined  to  the  name 
of  Acts. 

In  the  interval  between  the  birth  of  John  and  Ax  an 
affair  of  great  and  tragic  interest  had  occurred,  which  over 
threw  the  already  waning  respectability  of  the  Barker  fam 
ily,  and  fixed  their  position  in  the  pariah  caste,  who  still  will 
have  a  place  in  every  community.  A  brief  account  of  this 
affair  may  properly  be  given  here. 


WOLFSDEN.  203 

Susan  Twist  had  an  only  brother,  one  year  younger  than 
herself.  They  were  left  orphans  at  an  early  age  by  a  -worth 
less  pair,  who  died,  or  disappeared  in  some  forgotten  way. 
The  boy  and  girl,  whose  education  and  whose  inherited  tend 
encies  were  of  the  most  unfavorable  kind,  were  then  separ 
ated,  and  bound,  or  adopted,  into  respectable  families.  The 
girl  was  taken  into  Colonel  Bowler's  family,  where  she  was 
properly  employed  and  provided  for  till  she  came  of  age, 
when  she  chose  a  situation  where  she  could  learn  the  tailor's 
trade,  in  which  she  was  very  successful  till  her  marriage,  as 
already  recorded.  The  brother  Jotham  proved  less  manage 
able,  and,  after  a  few  years,  in  which  he  was  at  first  the 
plague  and  afterwards  the  terror  of  his  benefactors,  he  ran 
away.  He  was  then  but  about  a  dozen  years  old,  but  of 
strength  and  activity  extraordinary  for  his  years,  and  with  a 
temper  and  disposition  which  promised  anything  but  good 
from  his  physical  qualities.  A  daring  act  of  insubordination 
in  school,  at  the  beginning  of  the  winter  term,  had  compelled 
the  master  to  inflict  chastisement.  A  violent  conflict  ensued, 
in  which  Jotham  fought  desperately,  but  was  soundly  beaten, 
and  compelled  to  yield.  Stung  with  mortification  and  rage, 
he  determined  on  revenge  ;  and  at  the  recess  he  watched  the 
opportunity,  and  while  the  master  stood  at  the  window  with 
in,  he  hurled  a  billet  of  wood  from  without  with  such  force 
that  it  shivered  the  sash,  prostrated  the  master,  and  scattered 
the  glass  throughout  the  school-house.  This  done,  he  took 
to  his  heels  ;  and,  though  pursued  by  the  whole  school,  with 
the  master,  who  had  quickly  recovered  himself,  at  their  head, 
he  made  good  his  escape,  and  immediately  absconded  from 
Wolfsden,  and  nothing  reliable  was  heard  from  him  for  twenty 
years.  It  was  rumored  that  he  had  gone  to  sea,  had  become 


204  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

a  pirate,  had  been  caught  and  hung,  had  become  a  prize 
fighter  in  New  York,  had  beaten  a  dozen  champions,  and  at 
length  had  met  with  more  than  his  match,  and  after  a  des 
perate  conflict  had  finally  been  killed  outright ;  that  he  had 
entered  the  burglary  and  counterfeit  money  business,  had 
been  sentenced  to  state-prison  for  ninety-nine  years ;  that 
he  had  gone  to  Texas  and  Mexico,  had  joined  the  Indians  and 
been  made  a  chief,  and  distinguished  himself  with  the  scalp- 
ing-knife  and  tomahawk. 

His  real  adventures  were  probably  as  various  and  desperate 
as  the  rumors,  though,  not  exactly  coinciding  with  them  ;  for 
it  is  certain  that  in  little  more  than  twenty  years  afterwards, 
when  he  had  become  pretty  much  forgotten,  he  reappeared, 
looking  much  like  any  ordinary  mortal,  who  had  not  been  an 
executed  pirate  nor  an  Indian  chief,  though  there  were  scars 
about  his  face  which  seemed  to  favor  thg  prize-fighting  report, 
to  which  also  his  swaggering  air  gave  further  confirmation. 
Indeed,  his  whole  appearance,  indicating  strength,  pugnacity, 
and  recklessness,  was  such  that  none,  even  among  the  stout 
and  hardy  yeomen  of  Wolfsden,  would  willingly  have  dis 
puted  with  him  ;  and  it  was  conceded  that  the  wisest  way 
was  to  give  him  few  words  and  a  wide  berth,  although  a  few 
resolute  fellows  had  made  the  observation  that  he  must  keep 
his  insolence  within  reasonable  limits,  unless  he  felt  himself 
able  to  flog  the  whole  town  at  once. 

Circumstances  soon  led  to  a  conflict,  which,  though  less 
general  and  more  equal  than  that  which  had  been  talked  of 
as  possible,  was  sufficiently  tragical  in  its  results.  Jotham 
had  naturally  taken  up  his  abode  with  his  sister  and  brother- 
in-law,  where  he  was  received  and  entertained  with  the  hos 
pitality  to  which  his  relationship  was  a  sufficient  claim.  For 


Vf  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  .  205 

some  time  previous,  the  condition  and  respectability  of  the 
blacksmith  had  been  declining.  His  wife,  from  being  a 
thrifty  manager,  a  busy  neighbor,  and  a  restless  parish  med 
dler,  had  gradually  degenerated  to  a  noisy,  quarrelsome  shrew. 
Her  boys,  like  the  tiger's  whelps,  so  pretty  before  their  claws 
are  grown,  had,  notwithstanding  their  evangelical  names, 
matured  into  very  unevangelical  characters,  whom  careful 
neighbors  cautioned  their  children  to  avoid.  His  horse,  and 
cow,  and  pigs,  which  generally  ran  in  the  road,  showed  their 
disposition  and  education  to  be  no  better  than  those  of  the 
children  ;  for  they  broke  into  other  people's  enclosures,  where, 
not  content  with  satisfying  their  appetites,  they  wrought 
much  wanton  mischief  and  waste.  Bang  himself  had  also 
degenerated  from  a  good  blacksmith,  a  decent  citizen,  and  a 
fair  neighbor,  into  the  opposite  of  all  those  characteristics. 
Home  influences  had  doubtless  done  much  of  this;  for  it  is 
to  a  great  degree  the  wife  who  moulds  the  husband's  charac 
ter.  No  man  is  more  than  half  developed  till  after  marriage ; 
and  it  generally  depends  upon  the  wife  whether  his  possible 
good  qualities  shall  grow  and  give  color  to  his  character  as 
husband  and  head  of  the  family,  or  whether  these  shall  be 
repressed  and  choked  by  the  harsher  and  less  noble  disposi 
tions  which  have  their  elements  in  every  human  heart. 

Here  we  might  introduce  a  valuable  dissertation  upon 
family  economics ;  the  relative  and  reciprocal  influences  of 
husband  and  wife ;  the  comparative  importance  of  different 
domestic  qualities  in  each ;  what  are  the  incompatibilities  and 
what  the  indispensable  conditions  of  a  congenial  home ;  and 
how  far  outward  circumstances,  as  wealth,  poverty,  refine 
ment,  simplicity,  and  other  accidentals,  enter  into  those  con 
ditions  ;  and  how  qualities  which,  carried  to  a  proper  extent, 
18 


206  WOLFSDEN. 

are  virtues,  may,  by  their  excess,  produce  the  worst  results 
of  vice  —  unhappiness,  discord,  degradation.  But,  in  the 
mean  time,  who  shall_help  along  our  story,  which,  not  lag 
ging  for  the  sake  of  philosophy,  must  carry  its  moral  with 
it,  or  leave  it  to  the  reader's  reflection  ?  Besides,  it  is  well 
known  that  those  who  most  need  maxims  of  wisdom  for  the 
guidance  of  domestic  life  are  those  whose  unteachable  tem 
pers,  perverse  dispositions,  and  headstrong  habits,  disqualify 
them  for  profiting  by  counsel,  whether  preached  from  the 
pulpit  or  inculcated  in  history. 

But  there  were  bad  things  abroad  with  which  the  things  at 
home  were  only  subordinate  helps  to  hasten  the  ruin  of  Bang 
and  his  family.  Bragly's  Corner  was  a  little  beyond  Bang's 
shop.  Bragly's  store  was  on  Bragly's  Corner  ;  Bragly  kept 
groceries  and  other  small  notions,  and  especially  rum,  in  all 
its  vile  varieties.  Here  the  thriftless  coopers  and  shingle- 
makers  from  Herring  Cove  brought  their  manufactures  and 
exchanged  them  for  rum,  tobacco,  and  other  domestic  deli 
cacies.  Herring  Cove  is  a  poor  neighborhood,  behind  Saddle 
back  Hill,  and  is  so  called  in  derision  from  the  quantities  of 
smoked  and  pickled  herrings  bought  at  Bragly's  and  consumed 
there.  Here  Chadbourn,  the  shiftless  mason,  spent  for  like 
luxuries  the  avails  of  occasional  jobs  ;  and  here  also  his  lean 
old  crone  brought  skeins, of  flaxen  thread,  small  baskets  of 
eggs,  an  occasional  pair  of  woollen  socks,  and  such  small 
ware,  to  exchange  for  tea  and  snuff.  Here  also  congregated 
the  idle  and  dissipated  from  various  quarters,  to  spend  rainy 
afternoons  and  winter  evenings  in  maudlin  mirth,  drunken 
dispute,  angry  altercations,  and  sometimes  bloody-nosed  bat 
tles.  While  business  was  good,  Bang  seldom  visited  Brag 
ly's  ;  but  either  his  visits  became  more  frequent  because 


WOLFSDEN.  207 

his  business  became  more  dull,  or  his  business  became  mor« 
dull  because  his  visits  became  more  frequent,  or  these  two 
facts  cooperated,  till,  after  a  time,  it  came  to  be  understood 
generally  that  if  Bang  was  not  at  his  shop  he  might  be  found 
at  Bragly's ;  and,  after  a  still  further  time,  that  the  first 
place  to  look  for  Bang  was  at  Bragly's.  Even  when  in  his 
own  shop,  he  was  commonly  saturated  with  Bragly's  fluid, 
and  surrounded  with  Bragly's  atmosphere.  Iron  and  coal 
were  not  more  indispensable  to  his  operations  than  his  bottle. 
The  consequences  are  already  recorded.  The  profits  of  his 
industry  were  absorbed  in  the  profits  of  Bragly's  trade. 
Poverty,  waste,  discord,  recklessness,  and  all  the  demons  of 
ruin,  printed  their  cloven  hoofs  and  grinned  with  their  ugly 
visages  about  the  premises  of  Bang.  Sullen  discontent,  rude 
taunts,  and  finally  downright  quarrels,  made  a  part  of  the 
daily  family  life.  Neighbors  at  first  interfered,  advised, 
took  sides,  and,  as  usual,  made  matters  worse,  and  then  dis 
continued  the  common  civilities  of  reputable  acquaintance 
ship,  and  left  them  to  their  inevitable  infamy. 

It  was  at  about  this  stage  of  downward  progress  that 
Jotham  returned  to  Wolfsden,  and  took  up  his  residence  at 
the  house  of  his  brother-in-law  Bang.  At  first  it  seemed 
that  his  advent  was  salutary.  For  some  time  there  was  no 
noisy  quarrel  in  the  house,  and  there  happening  to  be  a  good 
demand  for  work  at  that  season,  the  shop  presented  a  scene 
of  unusual  activity.  Jotham  gave  good  aid  with  the  sledge 
hammer,  and  Bang  did  a  good  business. 

But  the  malign  influences  had  too  long  established  their 
sway  to  allow  their  permanent  power  to  be  doubted.  House 
hold  quarrels  became  more  violent  than  ever.  Jotham  natu 
rally  took  his  sister's  side,  and,  thus  backed,  she  became  more 


208  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

violent  in  her  temper  and  speech  than  ever,  until,  one  day, 
Bang  being  half  drunk  and  quite  abusive,  she  proceeded,  foi 
the  first  time,  to  personal  violence,  and  struck  him  over  the 
head  with  a  broom.  Bang  gave  her  a  kick  in  return,  which 
sent  her  prostrate  across  the  room,  and  was  in  turn  knocked 
down  by  Jotham.  A  regular  light  commenced,  in  which, 
notwithstanding  the  great  strength  of  Bang,  he  was  severely 
beaten,  without  being  able  to  inflict  any  serious  injury  upon 
Jotham,  who,  either  from  the  advantage  of  what  pugilists 
term  "  science,"  or  by  his  greater  activity,  was  able  to  parry 
the  blows  of  Bang,  and  to  "plant"  his  own  with  frightful 
effect. 

Bang  seemed  to  digest  his  beating  well  enough  ;  for,  though 
horribly  disfigured  about  the  face,  and  lamed  in  both  arms, 
he  kept  at  work,  and  associated  with  his  brother-in-law  as 
usual.  Mrs.  Barker,  who  was  the  beginner  of  the  fray,  was 
perhaps  the  greatest  sufferer  by  it ;  for,  besides  being  hurt  by 
the  kick,  and  frightened  by  the  fury  and  blood  of  the  combat, 
the  like  of  which  never  had  been  witnessed  in  Wolfsden,  she 
suffered  still  more  in  her  property,  the  furniture  and  crockery 
of  the  room  being  generally  smashed  in  the  conflict,  and  little 
could  she  expect  that  her  beaten  husband  or  victorious 
brother  would  repair  it. 

Things  went  along  without  further  disturbance  for  a  week 
or  two.  Bang  recovered  from  his  bruises,  and  was  less  de 
voted  to  the  bottle.  Some  said  that  since  he  got  his  "  gruel  " 
he  had  less  appetite  for  his  whiskey.  Others  thought  he 
kept  guarded,  that,  in  case  of  another  quarrel,  he  might  not 
be  taken  at  advantage ;  as  he  had  intimated  that  his  recent 
defeat  was  owing  to  his  being  drunk.  It  is  not  known  how 
the  second  conflict  occurred.  One  afternoon,  the  loungers  at 


WOLFSDEN.  209 

Bragly's  were  suddenly  summoned  by  the  screams  of  a 
woman,  soon  recognized  as  Mrs.  Barker,  at  the  blacksmith- 
shop.  Hastening  hither,  they  found  Jotham  prostrate  on  the 
floor,  with  a  frightful  wound  in  his  temple,  through  which 
blood  and  brains  were  oozing.  An  old  axe  lay  on  the  other 
side  of  the  shop,  which  had  evidently  been  thrown  with  great 
violence,  as  it  had  made  a  deep  indentation  in  a  block  by 
which  it  was  lying.  It  was  free  from  any  stain  of  blood,  and 
was  supposed  to  have  been  hurled  with  such  fury  as  to  have 
accomplished  its  murderous  mission  in  its  passage  without 
receiving  a  stain.  The  shape  of  the  wound,  which  indicated 
that  the  instrument  had  glanced  from  it,  together  with  the 
position  of  the  body,  favored  this  idea.  Bang  was  not  present, 
but  soon  came  in  with  a  pail  of  water,  a  part  of  which  he 
threw  in  the  face  of  the  dying  man,  with  the  purpose  of 
recovering  him.  No  other  remedy  was  attempted ;  and  in  a 
short  time  the  broad  chest  of  the  victim  ceased  to  heave, 
and  he  breathed  his  last. 

Bang  made  no  attempt  at  escape,  and  gave  no  explanation 
of  the  circumstances  above  described.  There  had  evidently 
been  a  severe  fight.  Bang  was  bruised  in  his  face  and  vari 
ous  parts  of  his  body,  though  his  brother-in-law  seemed  to 
have  suffered  no  wound  but  that  which  terminated  his  life. 
It  was  supposed  that  Bang,  being  foiled  in  "  planting  "  his 
blows  by  the  superior  "  science "  of  Jotham,  and  being 
severely  "  punished,"  as  his  various  bruises  showed,  had,  in 
his  exasperation,  seized  the  axe,  which  he  hurled  with  such 
fatal  aim  at  his  adversary's  head.  Bang's  persevering  silence 
on  the  subject,  which  was  probably  from  sullen  doggedness, 
or  perhaps  from  confusion  and  inability  to  recall  the  incidents 
of  the  struggle,  was,  in  his  situation,  the  course  which  policy 
18* 


210  WOLFSDEN. 

would  have  dictated,  as  thereby  he  avoided  committing  him 
self  by  contradictions  or  confessions.  In  the  judicial  investi 
gation,  which  took  place  afterward,  the  whole  affair  was  in 
volved  in  so  much  doubt  and  obscurity,  that  the  jury,  after  a 
long  consultation,  acquitted  Bang,  who  went  back  to  his 
family.  Mrs.  Bang's  testimony,  if  it  had  been  admissible, 
would  probably  have  changed  the  verdict  to  manslaughter,  or 
perhaps  murder;  yet,  though  it  could  not  be  doubted  that 
Bang  killed  Jotham,  few  affected  to  view  him  as  a  murderer, 
and  none  regretted  the  fate  of  his  victim. 

From  this  time  till  about  two  years  afterward,  Bang  con 
tinued  his  downward  course  of  drunkenness,  degradation,  and 
ruin,  with  even  accelerated  speed,  working  only  enough  to  get 
the  means  of  filling  his  bottle  at  Bragly's,  and  bearing  in 
sullen,  sottish  silence  the  eloquent  exhortations  and  angry 
reproaches  of  his  unhappy  vixen  partner.  Meanwhile  his 
boys  of  evangelical  names  and  anti-evangelical  dispositions 
had  grown,  up  to  precocious  manhood  and  precocious  deprav 
ity.  Home  lessons  had  not  been  lost  upon  them.  Kindred 
accomplishments,  gained  from  other  sources,  or  adopted  from 
instinct,  had  supplied  the  deficiencies  of  home  education,  as 
their  frequent  depredations  upon  neighbors'  gardens,  orchards, 
hen-roosts,  and  other  exposed  property,  plainly  showed. 
Finally,  they  had  successively  run  away,  each  one  after  hav 
ing  perpetrated  some  more  than  usually  daring  outrage,  as  if 
to  prove  the  maturity  of  his  attainments,  and  his  fitness  for  a 
wider  space  of  action.  Another  son  had  also  been  born  some 
six  months  after  the  tragic  event  before  recorded,  whom  the 
mother,  in  memory  of  her  murdered  brother,  named  Jotham, 
but,  through  the  potency  of  persevering  jest,  he  was  now  only 
known  as  Ax. 


WOLFSDEN.  211 

Some  months  after  the  last  event,  a  better  •  day  dawned 
upon  Bang.  It  dawned,  but,  alas !  it  did  not  brighten  into 
perfect  light.  The  temperance  movement  had  already  in 
cluded  Wolfsden  in  its  sphere,  and  there  was  a  numerous 
and  popular  society  (composed  chiefly  of  young  ladies), 
pledged  to  total  abstinence,  which  had  its  annual  celebra 
tions  its  occasional  lectures,  its  Fourth  of  July  picnic?, 
and  other  social  attractions.  The  chief  object  of  this  society 
was  to  preserve  the  virtue  of  temperance  where  it  already 
existed,  and  it  made  no  effort  to  reclaim  those  who  had 
become  drunkards,  such  being  generally  considered  irreclaim 
able.  Some  philanthropists  abroad,  however,  adopted  a  dif 
ferent  view,  and,  under  the  able  leadership  of  Mr.  Hawkins, 
a  man  gifted  with  rare  powers  of  persuasive  eloquence,  and 
himself  a  reformed  drunkard,  instituted  most  active  and  suc 
cessful  proceedings  for  the  reformation  of  drunkards,  even  of 
the  most  abandoned  class.  This  was  called  the  "  Washing- 

O 

tonian  Movement,"  and  the  history  of  its  labors  and  tri 
umphs  is  well  known.  It  is  one  of  the  brightest  and  most 
cheering  pages  of  the  book  of  humanity.  The  world  owes  a 
debt  of  gratitude  to  the  devoted,  laborious,  and  eloquent 
apostles  of  this  mission  of  mercy,  which  it  can  never  repay, 
and  never  will  even  appreciate,  till  truth  and  worth  shall  tri 
umph  over  the  falsehood  and  folly  which  have  so  long  ruled 
mankind. 

One  of  the  earnest  advocates  of  this  reformation  came  to 
Wolfsden,  and  succeeded,  by  means  of  that  peculiar  art  of 
persuasion,  which  only  a  good  cause  and  sincere  devotion  to 
it  can  inspire,  in  making  several  converts  among  the  worst 
inebriates.  Several  signal  trophies  of  this  remarkable  reform 
ation  remain  in  Herring  Cove  and  other  parts  of  Wolfsden  tc 


212  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

vindicate  the  divinity  of  the  mission,  and  the  claims  of 
humanity,  even  in  its  lowest  estate,  to  the  respect,  the  pity, 
and  the  help,  of  the  brotherhood  of  man. 

It  somehow  happened  that  the  church  in  W-olfsdcn  did  not 
favor  this  innovation.  Deacon  Murray  replied  to  the  zealous 
Washingtonian  that  his  doctrine  appeared  unsound,  in  not 
sufficiently  recognizing  -the  total  depravity  of  man  and  the 
sovereignty  of  God.  Parson  Boreman  said  the  matter  was 
not  in  his  line.  His  duty  was  to  preach  the  Gospel,  which 
invites  sinners  to  come,  letting  them  hear  or  forbear,  as  they 
might  choose.  Deacon  Arbor  showed  a  disposition  to  help 
the  Washingtonians,  and  made  the  agent  welcome  at  his 
house  while  he  remained ;  and  Aunt  Deborah,  when  she 
heard  of  the  parson's  answer,  said  that  the  MASTER  came  to 
seek  and  to  save  those  who  were  lost,  and  did  not  wait  for 
them  to  come  to  him. 

Although  many,  perhaps  most  of  the  "VVashingtonian  con 
verts  in  Wolfsden,  held  fast  their  integrity,  yet  several,  after 
running  well  for  a  time,  fell  away,  and  became  sots  as  before. 
Among  these  was  Bang.  The  wonder  was  not  that  he 
relapsed,  but  that  he  stood  so  long ;  for  it  was  about  a  year 
before  he  returned  to  his  old  habits,  and  it  may  fairly  be  pre 
sumed  that,  but  for  the  near  vicinity  of  Bragly's  and  the 
many  temptations  to  which  his  employment  subjected  him, 
and  perhaps  the  want  of  that  constant  supervision  of  encour 
aging  friends  which  was  one  of  the  chief  reliances  of  the 
Washingtonian  reform,  but  which,  in  sparsely-settled  towns,  is 
not  always  available,  his  reformation  might  have  been  per 
manent.  Its  good  effects,  while  it  lasted,  were  remarkable. 

Though  far  from  possessing  the  energy  of  his  youth,  he  was 
perseveringly  industrious.  His  shop  was  frequented  by  good 


WOLFSDEN.  213 

employers.  His  doors  and  windows  were  mended ;  his  garden 
and  wood-pile  and  other  surroundings  showed  signs  of  thrift  • 
and,  what  should  have  been  taken  as  an  omen  and  pledge  of 
continued  blessing,  a  daughter  was  added  to  the  household, 
one  which  the  better  guidance  of  the  mother,  under  these  more 
favorable  auspices,  might  have  brought  up  to  redeem  the 
reputation  of  the  blighted  and  doomed  family.  That  the 
promise  of  better  days  might  lack  nothing  of  its  fulfilment, 
Mrs.  Bang  seemed  to  have  met  with  as  favorable  a  change  as 
her  husband.  Whether  the  tragical  death  of  her  brother,  the 
trial  and  almost  conviction  of  Bang,  the  profligacy  and  flight 
of  her  boys,  and  the  continued  and  hopeless  misery  of  her 
domestic  life,  had  broken  down  her  violent  spirit,  or  whether 
the  hopeful  reformation  of  her  husband,  with  the  earnest  ex 
hortation  and  entreaty  of  the  Washingtonian  missionary  that 
she  would  encourage  his  reformation  by  making  his  home 
congenial,  added  to  the  mollifying  influence  which  maternity 
and  infant  dependence  exercises  in  the  female  heart,  or  from 
whatever  cause,  Mrs.  Bang  became  comparatively  a  mild  and 
patient  woman,  fulfilling  with  fidelity  the  duties  of  mother  and 
wife.  There  can  be  no  doubt  also  that  the  frequent  visits  and 
encouraging  words  of  Aunt  Deborah  and  Helen,  and  other 
members  both  of  Deacon  Arbor's  and  Colonel  Bowler's  family, 
helped  to  prolong  the  improvement.  Little  Ax's  disposition 
formed  under  the  improved  domestic  examples  which  this 
reformation  introduced  ;  and  especially  the  lovable  and  win 
ning  ways  of  the  little  daughter,  as  she  grew,  proved  the 
reality  and  tho  value  of  the  change.  And  though  Bang 
afterwards  fell  into  his  old  habits,  yet  Mrs.  B.  remained,  in 
a  great  degree,  improved.  She  could  not  become  quite  a  lamb 
in  her  temper ;  nature  and  long  habit  could  not  be  so  entirely 


214  WOLFSDEN. 

subdued,  Yet  she  exercised  a  mother's  powerful  influence 
for  the  well-being  arid  right  guiding  of  her  children.  And 
though  poverty  and  evil  example  hindered  her,  yet  she  managed 
to  shield  her  little  ones  from  their  worst  effects.  Ax  was 
equal  in  natural  intelligence  and  principles  to  other  boys;  and 
little  Susan  —  for  she  was  named  for  her  mother  —  was,  not 
withstanding  her  parentage,  the  favorite  of  the  neighborhood. 

I  think  it  unfortunate  that  any  occasion  was  given  to  the 
enemies  of  religion  of  accusing  the  church  of  being  the  cause 
of  Bang's  relapse.  I  think  it  would  perhaps  have  been  better, 
considering  the  results,  that,  since  it  had  done  nothing  to  pre 
vent  Bang's  ruin,  and  nothing  afterward  to  redeem  him,  if  it 
had  continued  its  forbearance  till  the  experiment  of  his  re 
demption  by  other  hands  had  been  fully  carried  out.  It  is 
proper,  however,  that  the  facts,  as  they  actually  were,  should 
be  recorded,  for  the  light  they  may  cast  on  future  cases  of  the 
kind. 

It  was  about  a  year  after  Bang's  reformation,  and  when  it 
came  to  be  understood  that  he  was  a  man  to  be  depended 
upon,  and  was  getting  up  in  the  world,  that  it  was  suggested 
in  a  church-meeting  that  some  watch  and  care  should  be 
extended  over  Sister  Barker  and  her  family  (for  she  still 
belonged  to  the  church,  though  so  long  neglected  and  for 
gotten)  ;  and,  since  there  appeared  to  be  a  prospect  of  their 
being  respectable  members  of  society,  it  would  be  as  well  to 
look  after  them,  and  bring  them  within  the  means  of  grace. 
This  was  assented  to,  and  Deacon  Arbor  was  named  to  man 
age  the  matter.  The  deacon  declined  the  service,  saying 
that  he  feared  such.efforts  would  be  unavailing,  as  the  course 
of  the  church  had  created  some  prejudice  among  the  Wash- 
ingtonians,  which  would  be  hard  to  overcome ;  and  that,  in  hia 


VFOLFSDEN.  215 

opinion,  the  time  was  past  for  attempting  to  bring  them  into 
the  church. 

Parson  Boreman  replied  that  "  it  was  never  too  late  to  do 
good ;  that  we  must  be  instant  in  season  and  out  of  season  ; 
and  while  the  lamp  holds  out  to  burn  the  vilest  sinner  may 
return,"  and  much  more  of  the  same  sort ;  and  nominated 
Major  Murray  to  the  duty  declined  by  the  deacon.  A  worse 
choice  could  scarcely  have  been  made.  Major  Murray  was 
as  upright  and  irreproachable  in  his  life  as  a  man  made  of 
cast-iron,  but  was  also  as  stiff  and  unconciliating.  A  rigid 
Calvinist,  and  firm  believer  in  the  sanctity  of  the  church  and 
its  ordinances,  through  which  alone  salvation  could  be  ob 
tained,  his  rule  of  Christian  duty  ran  exactly  in  the  groove 
of  the  Westminster  Catechism,  doing  what  might  be  done  in 
that  track,  and  running  over  or  knocking  aside  whatever  came 
not  in  that  scope  of  action. 

Major  Murray  called  upon  Mrs.  Barker,  the  next  day,  and 
opened  his  embassy  in  a  style  worthy  of  Cotton  Mather  him 
self.  He  told  her  that  the  church  had  regarded  with  great 
grief  her  absence  from  its  ordinances,  and  felt  it  their  duty 
to  admonish  her,  and  that  he  trusted  she  would  feel  the  im 
portance  of  the  stated  means  of  grace,  &c. ;  that  the  awful 
inflictions  and  warnings  which  she  had  experienced  in  her 
own  family  ought  to  humble  her  under  a  sense  of  divine  dis 
pleasure.  And  then  he  compared  her  case  with  that  of 
Abigail,  who,  though  the  wife  of  a  churl,  and  a  man  of 
Belial,  nevertheless  found  favor;  and  also  that  of  Eli,  whose 
two  sons,  Hophni  and  Phineas,  were  reprobates,  and  were 
destroyed,  though  he  was  saved ;  and  also  Jacob,  who  was 
chosen,  though  his  brother  Esau  was  rejected  ;  and,  with  these 
precedents  for  her  exclusive  salvation,  and  the  reprobation  of 


216  WOLFS  DEN. 

her  kindred,  he  told  her  that  she  should  look  only  to  God's 
glory,  and  put  away  the  carnal  affections.  "  For,"  said  he, 
"  in  heaven  we  shall  be  so  changed  by  grace  that  we  shall 
rejoice  in  the  vindication  of  his  divine  justice,  through  the 
torments  of  the  lost,  though  they  be  our  nearest  kindred." 

Poor  Mrs.  Barker,  though  generally  so  prompt  in  reply, 
was  silent  and  submissive  under  this  authoritative  admonition. 
Having  no  doubt  of  the  truth  of  those  doctrines,  she  could 
not  resist  their  application,  and  she  shrunk  back  with  instinct 
ive  terror  from  that  fiery  gulf  of  everlasting  torment  and 
despair  to  which  all  her  kindred  were  so  evidently  predestined, 
but  from  which  she  had  still  a  hope  of  escape  through  the 
calling,  election,  and  predestination,  fore-ordained  and  de 
creed  before  the  world  began,  and  which,  though  absolute  and 
unchangeable,  still  involved  a  necessity  of  church  ordinances, 
without  which  she  could  not  be  saved.* 

In  this  terrified  and  unhappy  mood,  and  thinking  little  of 
mere  temporal  matters,  she  neglected  the  household  duties 
which  she  generally  performed  so  well.  Bang,  who  had  seen 
the  arrival  and  departure  of  the  major,  towards  whom  he  felt 
strong  dislike,  was  little  disposed  to  overlook  the  uncomfort 
able  results  of  his  visit.  He  said  that,  as  the  church  had 
never  done  them  any  good  in  their  best  days,  and  had  kept 
out  of  the  way  in  their  worst  days,  he  would  thank  them  to 

*  Parson  Eorcman  and  his  predostinarian  teachings  represent  a  class 
of  ministers  and  ideas  more  common  in  past  generations,  and  in  remoter 
towns,  than  among  us.  Whether  those  doctrines  were  true  or  false,  this,  at 
least,  may  be  said  in  their  favor,  —  that  under  their  prevalence  the  nohlest 
traits  of  human  character  were  developed  and  cultivated.  The  boasted 
triumph  of  what  arc  termed  more  liberal  views  should  not  be  too  much 
magnified  until  their  efficacy  to  produce  equal  or  better  results  be  proved. 


\VOLFSDEN.  217 

.« 

keep  away  altogether ;  and  -when  they  came  again  he  should 
have  a  word  to  say. 

Accordingly,  soon  after,  when  the  major  had  reported  his 
proceedings  to  Parson  Boreman,  and  the  parson,  feeling  com 
pelled  to  do  something  in  the  business  which  he  had  advocated, 
called  upon  Mrs.  Barker,  Bang  bolted  in,  all  begrimed 
and  sweating  from  the  forge,  and,  with  a  familiar  swagger, 
welcomed  the  parson,  shook  hands,  told  him  he  was  glad  to 
see  him  looking  so  hearty,  after  so  long  a  time,  asked  "  how 
he  left  the  old  woman  and  Lucy, — that  is,  Lucinda, —  a 
fine  daughter  that  of  yourn,  Parson  Boreman  —  not  married 
yet,  I  s'pose  —  think  she  might  have  offers  enough  —  a  fine 
girl  like  her  —  and  why  don't  she  come  round  this  way,  and 
pay  us  a  visit  ?  Always  liked  Lucy  ;  that  is,  Lucinda."  And 
so  he  went  on,  with  a  pretended  good-natured  familiarity, 
more  annoying  and  insulting  than  any  other  treatment,  be 
cause  so  difficult  to  repel.  At  last  he  asked  the  minister  if 
he  would  take  something  to  "  wet  his  whistle,"  adding,  "  We 
don't  keep  nothing  on  hand,  now-a-days ;  but  Bragly  is  as 
accommodating  as  ever."  Parson  Boreman,  with  offended 
dignity,  replied  that  he  did  not  choose  to  take  anything, 
adding,  in  a  censorious  manner,  that  he  should  suppose  he 
(Bang)  had  seen  enough,  and  done  enough,  and  suffered 
enough,  by  rum,  to  quit  it  altogether. 

"  So  I  have,"  says  Bang,  still  more  provoked  by  the  minis 
ter's  manner  and  allusions;  "only  when  I  see  an  old  friend 
like  you,  been  away  so  long,  I  like  to  treat  him,  for  the  sake 
of  old  lang  syne.  Here,  Ax,  take  this  pint  bottle  to 
Bragly's,  and  tell  him  to  fill  it.  You  and  I  have  drank 
together,  parson,  and  it 's  about  time  we  should  again.  You 
have  n't  signed  the  pledge,  I  understand  ;  and,  as  for  me,  an 
19 


218  WOLFSDEN. 

old  reprobate,  bound  to  the  devil's  kingdom  come,  any  way, 
it 's  no  matter  what  I  do." 

If  Mr.  Boreman  had  had  the  good  sense  to  depart  imme 
diately,  or  the  magnanimity  and  tact  to  conciliate  Bang  by 
acknowledging  his  fault  in  not  supporting  the  temperance 
cause,  as  he  should  have  done,  and  declared  himself  ready  to 
sign  the  pledge,  all  would  probably  have  been  well,  and  he 
would  have  had  the  merit  of  having  saved  a  soul  from  death. 
Instead  of  this,  he  angrily  replied  that  he  disapproved  of 
strong  drink ;  that  he  seldom  took  any,  and  only  when  he  re 
quired  it;  and  that  he  trusted  he  was  man  enough  to  guard 
himself  from  excess  in  eating  or  drinking,  without  any  pledge. 

By  this  time,  Ax,  who  little  knew  how  fatal  was  the  errand 
upon  which  he  was  sent,  had  returned,  and  Bang,  pouring  out 
drams  in  a  couple  of  glasses,  set  one  before  the  minister, 
saying :  "  Come,  parson,  drink  to  our  good  luck,  as  you  did 
the  evening  you  married  us.  Here 's  to  you  and  your  old 
woman,  and  Lucjr, —  that  is,  Lucinda.  May  she  soon  get  a 
good  husband,  and  have  as  good  luck  as  we  've  had  !  "  Bang 
probably  did  not  mean  to  drink  when  he  sent  for  the  rum ; 
but  he  was  now  excited  by  passion  and  swelling  with  bravado, 
and  as  he  took  in  the  fumes  of  the  tempting  glass,  forgetting 
his  pledge,  he  raised  it  to  his  lips,  and  drained  it  to  the  bot 
tom.  The  minister,  seeing  no  chance  of  introducing  the 
business  upon  which  he  came,  took  his  leave,  well  aware  that 
he  had  done  no  good,  and  perhaps  half  aware  that  he  had 
done  harm. 

Dreadful  and  fatal  was  the  harm  of  which  his  visit  had 
been  the  occasion,  if  not  the  cause.  The  pledge  was  violated. 
The  charm  was  broken.  Bang  had  once  more  tasted  the 
soul-poisoning  cup,  and  all  his  furious  appetites,  so  long 


WOLFSDKX.  219 

nourished  and  so  long  enchained,  rose  to  complete  mastery 
over  his  better  resolutions.  He  emptied  the  glass  which  the 
minister  had  refused  to  touch.  He  emptied  the  bottle.  It 
was  again  filled,  and  Bang  was  again  a  drunkard.  "  Behold 
the  end  of  unsanctified  reform,"  said  Parson  Boreman  to  Ma 
jor  Murray;  "  the  dog  has  returned,"  &c.  "Behold  the  end  of 
sanctified  meddlesomeness,"  said  Aunt  Deborah,  when  she 
heard  of  the  parson's  remark. 

Since  Bang's  relapse  he  had  become  rather  the  passive  and 
resigned  slave  of  rum,  than  the  brawling  and  turbulent  drunk 
ard.  None  of  the  active  energies  of  either  the  human  or 
brutal  kind  prevailed ;  and  nothing  but  the  low,  grovelling 
appetite  of  selfish  gratification  remained.  He  would  perform 
any  service  for  rum,  but  make  no  exertion  for  any  solid  ad 
vantages.  He  would  bear  the  grossest  insult,  and  make  up 
the  bitterest  quarrel,  for  rum.  He  would  lie,  steal,  or  fight,  for 
rum ;  and  would  swallow  the  most  nauseous  compound,  of 
which  rum  was  an  ingredient.  Without  any-  actual  vice, 
except  the  absence  of  every  virtue  or  redeeming  quality,  he 
was  a  most  revolting  example  of  entire  subjection  to  base 
appetite.  No  doubt  the  soul  within  him  had  struggled  severely 
before  it  yielded  to  this  degradation ;  and  even  now  it  writhed 
iu  its  place  of  torment,  and  gave  utterance,  through  the  drunk 
ard's  lips,  to  self-execrations  and  blasphemies,  superstitious 
fear,  and  heaven-defying  despair. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  on  our  first  glance  at  Bang's 
dwelling  we  noticed  some  small  signs  of  improvement,  in  refer 
ence  to  which  some  significant  gestures  passed  between  Alek 
and  Isaac,  upon  which  we  will  here  throw  light. 

The  universal  custom  of  distributing  gifts  and  good  wishes 
on  Christmas  and  New  Year's  Day  is  by  no  means  neglected 


220  \VOLFSDEN. 

in  Wolfsden;  and  among  the  young  hearts  made  glad  by  pretty 
presents  the  families  of  the  deserving  poor  are  not  forgotten. 
Some  savory  cheer  in  the  shape  of  mince-pies  and  other  cu 
linary  compounds,  with  a  fat  chicken,  a  spare-rib  of  pork,  some 
comfortable  articles  of  dress,  &c.,  had  already  found  their 
way  to  Mrs.  Barker's  chest,  when,  on  Christmas  eve,  a  knock 
was  heard  at  the  door,  and  a  figure  of  strange  attire  and 
unwieldly  dimensions,  enveloped  in  a  shaggy  bear-skin,  a  high 
raccoon  cap,  and  what  seemed  a  beard  of  monstrous  growth, 
entered  the  kitchen.  The  action  of  the  intruder  was  as  strange 
as  his  figure.  Thrusting  one  hand  into  a  bag  hanging  to  his 
side,  he  drew  forth  a  substantial  pair  of  boys'  boots,  which  he 
tossed  upon  the  floor,  and  growled,  in  a  gruff  voice,  "Ax." 
Thrusting  the  other  hand  into  the  opposite  side,  he  drew  out 
a  pair  of  girls'  boots,  and,  throwing  them  with  the  others,  he 
growled  "  Sue."  Detaching  two  bundles  which  hung  round 
his  neck,  he  tossed  one  towards  Mrs.  B.,  with  the  uncompli 
mentary  grunt"  of  "  Old  Woman,"  and  threw  the  other  with 
some  force  towards  Bang,  and  then,  turning  round,  took  his 
departure.  An  immediate  examination  of  the  presents  so 
strangely  brought  was  quite  satisfactory.  The  boots  for  Ax 
and  Sue  were  found  to  be  crammed  with  woolen  yarn,  and  two 
or  three  sets  of  knitting-pins ;  and  the  other  bundles  contained, 
one,  a  pair  of  second-hand  trousers  for  Bang,  the  condition 
of  whose  unmentionables  had  evidently  prompted  the  charity, 
and  the  other,  sundry  tokens  of  good-will  to  Mrs.  -B. 

The  children  were  delighted,  and,  believing  it  a  veritable 
visit  from  Santa  Glaus,  insisted  upon  taking  their  presents  to 
bed  with  them.  Bang  received  his  in  sullen  apathy.  There 
were  in  him  no  emotions  of  gratitude,  surprise,  or  shame 
which  any  event  could  excite.  His.  ever-craving  appetite  for 


WOLFSDEN.  22J 

rum,  which  had  been  for  several  days  ungratified,  was  now  rag 
ing  within  him.  Waiting  till  the  children  were  asleep,  he  groped 
to  their  bed,  and,  securing  the  boots  of  Susan,  and  providing 
himself  with  a  jug,  he  went  to  Bragly's  store.  It  was  grow 
ing  late,  Bragly's  customers  had  retired,  and  he  was  about  to 
shut  up.  Throwing  the  boots  on  the  counter,  and  exhibiting 
the  jug,  Bang  called  for  a  gallon  of  rum.  Boots  were  current 
barter  with  Bragly,  and  the  rum  was  furnished,  and  a  paper 
of  tobacco  to  make  up  the  balance,  with  which  Bang  pro 
ceeded  home.  Mrs.  B.  had  not  attempted  to  prevent  the  act, 
knowing  that  it  would  be  of  no  use.  Bang  proceeded,  as 
usual,  to  get  drunk.  His  wife  went  to  bed,  as  usual,  with  a 
sad  heart ;  and  Bragly  probably  retired  with  a  comfortable 
consciousness  of  having  finished  up  a  good  day's  business  with 
a  good  additional  profit. 

Poor  little  Susan's  disappointment,  the  next  morning,  may 
be  imagined ;  but  retribution,  though  often  slow,  is  sometimes 
sudden.  A  neighbor,  calling  at  Bang's  that  day,  found  out 
the  facts,  and  in  the  evening  a  big  figure,  in  a  bear-skin,  en 
tered  Bragly's  store,  and,  seizing  a  pair  of  girl's  boots  which 
hung  upon  a  string  for  sale,  thrust  them  into  his  pocket, 
growling  "  Sue's  boots,"  and  departed,  Bragly  not  deeming  it 
prudent  to  intercept  his  progress.  Entering  Bang's  house  as 
unceremoniously  as  before,  he  threw  down  "the  boots,  and,  pro 
ceeding  to  a  corner  where  Bang  sat  half  drunk,  he  seized  the 
jug  by  the  handle,  and  Bang  by  the  nose,  and  with  a  back 
ward  step  retreated  toward  the  door.  Bang  roared  with  pain. 
His  nose  was  swollen  and  tender  with  carbuncles,  and  his  out 
cry  showed  plainly  that  ho  had  still  one  susceptible  spot. 
The  strange  figure  maintained  his  grip  till  he  had  dragged 
Bang  across  the  floor,  and  then,  with  a  parting  wring,  gruffly 
19* 


222  WOLFSDEN. 

muttered,  "  Beware  of  Santa  Glaus!"  and  departed,  taking  the 
jug,  which  was  found  next  morning,  emptied  of  its  contents, 
and  standing  on  a  log  near  the  door.  A  neighbor,  who  called 
the  next  day,  found  little  Susan  rejoicing  in  her  restored  boots, 
and  Bang  with  a  bandage  about  his  face,  busy  in  mending  the 
chinks  of  his  dwelling.  Nobody  knows  who  personated  Santa 
Claus ;  but  it  was  remarked  by  Ike  to  Alek,  with  a  wink, 
which  was  answered  by  a  nod,  that  Bragly  would  probably 
decline  any  future  dealings  with  Bang  in  the  boot  line. 


C  PI  AFTER    XIII. 


He  said,  "  This  will  I  do.  I  will  pull  down  my  barns,  and  build  greater, 
and  will  say  to  my  soul,  Eat,  drink,  and  be  merry."  But  God  said,  "  THOU 
FOOL." 

SULTRY  summer  pours  down  intolerable  day  in  Wolfsden. 
It  is  the  hottest  season  of  many  years.  Corn-leaves  curl  and 
shrink  ;  unmown  grass  turns  to  premature  hay ;  idle,  dainty 
cows,  and  luxurious  swine,  seek  cool  shelter  in  shady  pools. 
Sheep  stretch  themselves  upon  the  sod  behind  stone  walls,  and 
beneath  wind-fallen  trees.  Restless  children  escape  from  the 
hot  school-room  with  pretence  of  replenishing  the  water-pail 
from  the  distant  spring,  and  loiter  long  in  the  grassy  meadow.' 
Their  fingers  arc  stained  with  ripe  strawberries,  betraying 
their  truancy.  The  schoolmistress  winks  sleepily  at  the  trans 
gression.  There,  in  the  green  meadow,  gay  grasshoppers  sing 
away  their  sunny  life,  forgetful  of  the  fabled  counsel  of  the 
frugal  ant,  who  still  toils  on,  laying  up  stores  for  future  want. 
In  vain  the  tantalizing  almanac  predicts  "sharp  —  lightning — 
and  heavy  showers  —  about  — this  time."  The  prediction  is 
spread,  like  a  long  net,  through  the  calendar  page,  but  catches 
not  a  clap  of  thunder,  nor  a  drop  of  rain,  to  save  its  credit. 
All  signs  fail. 

Parson  Borcman  moves  in  the  matter.     He  cites  Scripture 


224  TT  0*L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

proofs  of  like  cases,  and  preaches  a  sermon  upon  the  drouth 
of  Elijah  the  Tishbite,  in  the  days  of  Ahab,  showing  there 
were  dry  times  in  old  times  as  in  modern  times,  and  from  the 
same  cause,  namely,  want  of  rain.  And  when  Elijah  proph 
esied  rain,  the  drouth  ended ;  but  not  till  Ahab  had  sent  seven 
times  did  a  cloud  like  a  man's  hand  appear,  and  then  there 
was  an  abundance  of  rain.  Therefore  Parson  Boreman  pre 
dicts  rain  when  the  drouth  shall  be  ended,  and  fortifies  his 
position  by  the  words  of  Ahab.  To  hasten  this  consummation, 
he  mentions  the  subject  in  his  forenoon  and  afternoon  prayer. 
Yet  the  heavens  relent  not.  Prediction  and  prayer  must  wait 
this  fulfilment.* 

Business  is  dull  at  Bragly's.  Loafers  lag  at  home.  Empty 
bottles  remain  unfilled.  The  gill-cup  intermits  its  retail 
measure  of  cumulative  misery.  The  grinders  cease,  or  slowly 
move,  and  tobacco  remains  unchewed.  Trade  is  flat,  and 
Bragly  is  uneasy.  One  gets  tired  in  a  long  time  of  doing 
nothing,  and  thinking  nothing,  and  being  nothing. 

Bragly  is  prosperous  in  his  vocation,  yet  his  ambition  is  not 
fully  satisfied.  Tedious  leisure  nourishes  his  discontent.  His 
position  is  not  prominent  enough.  His  merits  are  not  duly 
appreciated  in  Wolfsden.  Sixty  years  of  shrewd  and  saving 
thrift  have  gained  him  wealth,  and  why  not  honor  and  office  ? 

*It  was  on  this  occasion  that  George  Bowler  wrote  with  his  pencil,  on 
the  partition  of  the  gingers'  scats,  the  following  epigram,  which,  I  aic 
eorry  to  confess,  was  remembered  in  Wolfaden  longer  than  the  sermoa 
which  occasioned  it  : 

"Our  parson  makes  his  doctrine  plain  — 
Dry  seasons  come  from  lack  of  rain.  ' 

Proceed,  good  parson,  let  us  know 
The  source  whence  drouthy  sermons  flow." 


>T  0  L  F  8  D  E  X  .  225 

He  has  often  contrived  to  be  nominated  ;  but,  though  shrewdly 
arranging  to  have  all  his  partisans  at  the  polls  whom  liberal 
drains  and  vague  promises  would  purchase,  he  has  always 
been  defeated.  In  his  younger  days  he  was  elected  ensign  of 
the  Wolfsden  Light  Infantry,  but,  being  twice  superseded,  he 
resigned  without  getting  a  title.  Once,  in  a  thin  town-meet 
ing,  by  rallying  his  force  unexpectedly,  he  was  nearly  chosen 
representative.  Since  that  time,  he  has  waited  in  vain.  He 
now  meditates  the  policy  of  a  more  ostentatious  style  of 
living.  A  fine  house,  with  corresponding  surroundings,  will 
show  that  self-appreciation  which  challenges  and  commands 
the  consideration  of  others.  Great  men  dwell  in  large  houses, 
and  this  is  not  only  the  sign,  but  often  the  source,  of  their 
greatness.  Bragly  will  have  a  great  house.  Such  things 
are  quickly  done  in  Wolfsden,  as  elsewhere  in  Maine,  by 
those  who  have  the  ambition.  A  pine  frame  of  two  stories, 
covered  with  boards  and  shingles  and  white  paint,  with  plenty 
of  windows  and  green  blinds,  makes  an  imposing  outside,  which 
is  for  the  public.  The  inside  belongs  to  the  owner,  and  may 
be  as  unfinished  and  unfurnished  as  his  head. 

He  reviewed  the  selected  site,  and  drove  stakes  at  the 
corners.  Their  regular  appearance  confirmed  his  choice. 
lie  proceeded  to  count  the  cost,  and  chuckled  in  the  prospect 
of  cheap  magnificence.  Poor  men,  of  whose  farms  he  has 
mortgages,  must  sell  him  timber  at  a  low  price.  Thriftless 
but  strong  men  will  dig  and  lay  the  foundations  for  little 
besides  rum  and  tobacco,  and  that  little  he  will  pay  in  refuse 
good*.  Meanwhile,  he  must  board  them  ;  but  for  this  he  has 
a  stock  of  poor  salt  beef  and  pickled  fish.  Drunken  laborers 
are  not  difficult  to  feed  nor  to  pay,  and  will  be  quick  cus 
tomers  for  his  garbage.  Bragly  understands  business ;  his 


226  TVOLFSDEN. 

talents  lie  in  that  line.  Sometimes  he  philosophizes,  but 
always  in  a  vein  corresponding  to  his  vocation.  Mankind, 
says  he,  are  divided  into  two  classes.  The  upper  class,  who 
cheat ;  and  the  lower,  who  are  cheated.  He  plumes  himself 
upon  belonging  to  the  upper  class.  Bragly  is  aristocratic. 

In  his  mind's  eye  he  sees  his  shingle  palace  already  built. 
He  sees  himself  its  proud  proprietor.  He  looks  upon  him 
self  with  new  respect.  He  will  make  himself  better  known. 
He  possesses  wealth,  and  wealth  will  secure  dignity.  At 
least,  he  can  be  justice  of  the  peace  —  Solomon  Bragly,  ESQ. 
It  shall  go  hard,  but  he  will  yet  be  representative.  Bragly 
is  ambitious. 

But  business  must  be  minded  ;  even  genius  must  have 
tools.  Bragly  proceeds  to  count  up  and  catalogue  the  tools 
he  can  command. 

Bang  was  the  nearest  and  first  on  the  list.  He  had  grown 
very  seedy  and  shaky.  He  was  evidently  on  his  last  legs  ; 
but,  with  proper  nursing,  might  last  through  this  service. 
Bragly's  nursing  always  answers  the  purpose  ;  that  is,  his 
own  purpose.  He  knows,  by  long  experience,  how  to  deal 
out  his  drams'  so  as  to  get  the  greatest  possible  amount  of 
work.  He  calculated  that  this  job  would  just  about  use  up 
Bang,  and  the  contemplated  result  was  not  an  unpleasant 
item.  Besides  the  natural  antipathy  which  the  rum-seller, 
like  the  cat,  feels  towards  his  victim,  Bragly  had  an  old 
grudge  against  Bang.  Many  years  ago,  he  had  refused  to 
vote  for  him,  and  had  uttered  some  contemptuous  remark  ; 
and  also,  at  the  time  of  his  brief  reformation,  he  had  indulged 
in  some  severe  reflections  upon  him.  Bragly  never  forgot 
nor  forgave  things  of  that  sort.  He  has  long  been  revenging 


•WOLFSDEN.  227 

himself.  He  will  now  finish  up  his  revenge,  and  finish  off 
Bang. 

Herring  Cove  would  furnish  its  quota  of  material  to  be 
used  up  in  the  enterprise.  There  was  a  numerous  shoal  of 
the  Herring  tribe,  whom  Bragly  had  for  many  years  fed  with 
vile  bait,  and  dried  and  smoked  with  poisonous  tobacco,  and 
pickled  with  fiery  N.  E.  rum.  These,  by  long  possession, 
belonged  to  Bragly.  He  had  caught  them  in  his  net,  and 
brought  them  up  in  his  school.  Scaly  fish,  at  best,  but 
Bragly  could  use  them  with  profit. 

Chadbourn,  the  shiftless  mason,  he  safely  reckoned  upon ; 
also  some  others,  yet  hesitating  in  the  road  to  ruin,  but  who 
he  shrewdly  guessed  would  come  along  with  the  crowd. 
King  Solomon,  with  all  his  wealth  and  wisdom,  had  no 
surer  resources  for  his  temple  than  Bragly  for  his  shingle 
palace. 

Bragly  proceeded  with  fervor  in  .his  enterprise.  Besides 
the  cellar,  a  well  was  necessary;  for  the  old  well  always  failed 
in  a  dry  time,  just  when  water  was  most  needed.  Bang  once 
said  that  Bragly  had  exhausted  it  in  watering  his  rum.  Now 
he  should  pay  for  the  sarcasm  by  digging  a  new  one.  A  dry 
time  is  a  good  time  to  dig  a  well,  for  water  then  obtained 
will  hold  out. 

And  so  he  summoned  Bang  and  Chadbourn  to  dig  his  well. 
Chadbourn  was  sometimes  called  the  sexton's  clerk,  for  the 
sexton  usually  employed  him  to  assist  in  digging  graves. 
Being  the  most  reliable  of  the  two,  he  was  appointed  master- 
workman  ;  and,  beginning  on  one  side  of  the  well,  placed 
Bang  on  the  other,  and  they  proceeded  to  dig.  Cliadbourn's 
excavation,  from  his  habit  of  grave-digging,  took  the  form 
of  a  parallelogram.  Under  the  influence  of  his  morning 


228  WOLFSDKN. 

dram,  he  worked  fast  and  dug  deep.  Bang  copied  the  ex 
ample  of  his  leader,  and  dug  a  hole  of  like  dimensions. and 
depth ;  and  when  Bragly,  after  an  hour  or  two,  came  out 
with  some  visitors  to  see  the  progress  of  the  work,  they  were 
struck  at  seeing  two  deep  graves  in  near  proximity.  Bragly 
shuddered,  but  the  feeling  soon  passed  away.  Thoughts  of 
the  grave  seldom  disturbed  Bragly,  though  he  had  led  so 
many  miserable  victims  thither. 

The  well  progressed.  The  two  parallelograms  were  merged 
in  the  wider  circle,  which  sunk  deeper  and  deeper.  Plat 
forms  were  placed  within  the  sides,  and  the  earth  was  tedi 
ously  thrown  out  by  progressive  steps.  Yet  the  work  went 
on ;  the  well  still  deepened,  and  the  diggers  descended. 

Bragly's  ambition  sought  for  yet  other  developments.  He 
meditated  the  chance  of  elevating  his  position  by  a  matrimo 
nial  alliance.  His  "old  woman  went  off,"  for  so  he- spoke 
of  his  wife's  death,  a  dozen  years  since,  and  left  no  incum- 
brance  but  a  boy,  begotten  in  the  likeness  of  Bragly,  whom 
he  had  educated  in  his  petty  arts,  and  sent  into  the  world. 
So  the  old  man  was  free  to  begin  the  world  .again.  His  mat 
rimonial  experiences  were  not  such  as  to  stimulate  him  to  a 
new  venture,  for  the  sake  of  domestic  bliss ;  but  policy 
prompted  a  thought  of  other  advantages  to  be  gained  in 
that  way. 

Lucinda  Boreman,  the  minister's  daughter,  she  of  the 
slender  waist  and  long  curls,  the  long-established  belle  of 
Wolfsden,  was  still  in  the  market,  —  a  precious  commodity, 
but  with  no  customer.  The  thought  was  aspiring,  but  Brag 
ly,  who  saw  himself  the  proud  proprietor  of  his  imaginary 
palace,  and  the  justice  of  peace,  and  representative  yet  to  be, 
encouraged  aspiring  thoughts.  It  would  be  a  fine  specula- 


WOLFSDEN.  229 

tion,  if  a  possible  one.  Lucinda  would  be  an  heiress  when 
the  parson  and  wife  should  die,  for  Lucinda,  who  had  lived 
so  long  without  growing  old,  would  outlive  everybody  ;  and 
this,  also,  was  Bragly's  own  plan  of  life.  He  was  not  sixty, 
and  when  put  in  trim  by  the  tailor  was  young  again,  —  so  he 
judged,  and  with  some  reason.  His  still,  sly,  spider  life  had 
not  worn  him  much.  Such  folks  live  long. 
.  By  soft  approaches  Bragly  resolved  to  win  his  way.  In 
such  affairs  nature  and  love  teach  the  young,  —  policy  and 
craft,  the  old.  Nature  and  love  are  the  best  teachers,  but 
policy  and  craft  are  often  unexpectedly  successful.  Bragly's 
expectations  were  preposterous ;  but  expectations  equally  pre 
posterous  have  been  realized. 

Religion  would  serve  as  a  stepping-stone  to  his  ambition. 
He  thought  it  was  often  so  employed.  Bragly  reflected  upon 
the  different  sorts,  that  he  might  select  that  most  easily  put 
on,  and  best  adapted  to  his  purposes.  A  genteel,  aristocratic 
religion  would  suit  him  best.  Bragly  had  hitherto  been  non 
committal  on  religion,  but  might  easily  step  on  that  side  of 
the  fence.  A  life  of  utter  depravity  and  vileness  is  thought 
to  be  fair  preparation  for  conversion ;  whereas  the  practice 
of  morality  and  virtue  generally  hardens  the  impenitent  in 
unbelief. 

Bragly  became  serious.  He  attended  church  regularly,  in 
white  cravat  and  kid  gloves.  His  little  cunning  eye,  and 
puckered  contriving  mouth,  practised  solemn  grimaces.  He 
laid  in  a  stock  of  Bibles,  and  "  Calls  to  the  Unconverted," 
and  urged  them  upon  his  customers.  He  mentioned  to  the 
tract  distributor  his  willingness  to  take  charge  of  a  few,  and 
circulate  them.  His  devotional  deportment  attracted  atten 
tion.  Deacon  Murray  called,  and  bought  a  pound  of  tea ; 
20 


230  -WOLFSDEN. 

Bragly  (by  mistake,  of  course)  handed  back  too  much 
change,  and,  when  called  to  -rectify  it,  remarked  upon  his 
habit  of  this  sort  of  blunder.  All  this  was  set  down  to  con 
cern  of  mind,  which  Bragly  was  striving  to  conceal  and 
quench.  The  deacon  watched  the  progress  of  Bragly's  case 
closely,  and  mentioned  it  to  the  parson.  Bragly's  tactics  thus 
far  succeed. 


The  work  of  the  well  goes  on.  Deep  in  the  earth  the  dig 
gers  delve.  Three,  four,  five  successive  platforms  descend 
the  subterranean  profound,  and  are  manned  by  gaunt  and 
grim  wretches,  whose  muscles,  stimulated  by  infernal  potions, 
labor  incessantly,  tossing  the  mud  and  stones  from  the  cold, 
wet  bottom,  to  the  hot,  dry  surface.  At  length  another  con 
trivance  is  adopted.  The  platforms  arc  removed,  and  a  huge 
windlass,  with  long  projecting  arms,  is  erected  across  the 
yawning  depth,  by  which  empty  buckets  descend,  to  return 
laden  with  heavy  freight.  Far  down  in  the  dark  abyss,  the 
bulky  bodies  of  Bang  and  Chadbourn  seem  like  pigmies,  com 
pared  with  the  gaunt  laborers  who  sweat  at  the  windlass  above. 

It  is  a  fearful  thing  to  look  down  from  the  dizzy  brink 
into  the  profound  depth.  What  if  the  solid  wall  of  earth 
should  suddenly  bury  the  diggers  alive,  —  perhaps  in  a  living 
grave  !  Such  things  have  been.  Or,  if  the  brink  should  fall 
from  beneath  the  beholders'  feet,  precipitating  their  bodies,  a 
mangled  mass,  upon  the  devoted  wretches  beneath  !  Let  long 
timbers  and  strong  planks  be  laid  around,  to  prevent  the 
catastrophe ;  and  let  the  diggers  hasten  their^work,  that  the 
danger  may  be  sooner  past.  Alas  !  their  danger,  and  ruin, 
and  death,  may  not  be  so  escaped ;  for,  though  the  earth  re 
main  innocent  of  their  blood,  yet  their  souls'  life  is  buried 


W  0  L  F  S  D  K  N  .  231 

and  suffocated  in  a  lingering  death  in  the  living  tomb  of  their 
besotted  and  beastly  bodies.  Bragly's  tools  perish,  but  his 
tactics  succeed. 


He  made  an  incidental  call  on  Parson  Boreman,  and  sug 
gested  the  idea  of  a  tract  depository  at  his  store,  and  offered 
to  take  upon  himself  the  trouble  of  distribution.  He  was 
happy  to  hear  that  the  missionary  had  been  so  successful,  in 
spite  of  the  evil-minded  opposition  he  had  met  (referring  to 
Harry),  and  regretted  that  he  had  neglected  handing  in  his 
mite,  which  he  would  thank  the  parson  to  receive ;  and,  tak 
ing  out  a  well-filled  pocket-book,  he  presented  a  live-dollar 
bill.  He  would  also  be  pleased  to  subscribe  for  a  missionary 
paper.  The  parson,  though  partly  prepared  for  the  miracle 
by  Deacon  Murray's  communication,  was  astonished  at  such 
liberality  from  such  a  source.  He  had  evidently  overlooked 
and  under-estimated  one  of  the  treasures  of  his  parish.  He 
atoned  by  unaccustomed  affability  for  past  neglect.  He 
invited  Bragly  to  remain  for  tea.  The  ever-charming  Lucin- 
da  was  present,  and  bestowed  her  ever-ready  and  practised 
smiles.  The  parson  was  plainly  pleased  with  the  convert. 
Perhaps  Lucinda  might  not  disdain  the  conquest.  Bragly 's 
tactics  are  wonderful. 


His  well,  like  his  profound  calculations,  grows  deeper  and 
deeper.  Forty  feet  have  the  diggers  descended,  and  yet 
deeper  must  they  delve  ;  for  Bragly  says,  with  authority, 
that  he  will  have  no  half-way  work.  Let  him  hasten,  for 
his  tools  begin  to  fail.  Bang  digs,  and  totters ;  yet  still  he 
digs,  for  Bragly's  potions  still  stimulate  nature's  expiring 
energies  to  extremest  efforts.  Chadbourn  is  pale.  His  eyes 


232  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

are  red,  his  lips  are  blue,  his  visage  is  haggard, —  yet  he  and 
the  other  wretches  labor  on.  Bragly  will  have  no  half-way 
work,  —  his  work  and  his  tools  will  soon  be  finished. 

Materials  were  wanted,  as  well  as  tools,  and  Bragly  had 
a  fine  lot  of  timber  in  his  eye.  It  was  on  Dick  Freeport's 
farm.  Dick's  farm  was  just  beyond  the  school-house,  before 
referred  to.  His  father  gave  it  to  him  several  years  before, 
and  he  settled  with  a  good  wife  and  good  prospects,  for  his 
farm  was  an  excellent  tract  of  good  soil,  besides  the  valuable 
lot  of  timber ;  and,  his  father  dying  shortly  after,  he  received 
a  portion  of  the  remaining  property,  with  the  charge  of  his 
mother,  whose  discreet  and  careful  aid  was  a  valuable  acqui 
sition,  for,  besides  other  treasures,  Dick's  children  multiplied 
amazingly.  But  his  chance  of  prosperity  and  happiness  was 
soon  clouded,  for  he  gradually  fell  into  Bragly's  hands.  Brag- 
ly's  store  was  nearer  than  any  other,  and  Dick  could  not  with 
stand  the  temptation  of  unlimited  credit.  Drunkenness  was 
not  his  vice,  —  at  least,  not  at  first ;  but  he  would  drink  a 
sociable  glass,  and  then  he  would  buy  whatever  Bragly  rec 
ommended, —  for  Bragly  was  ostentatious  of  his  accommo 
dating  disposition  and  liberal  credit.  Dick  bought  largely, 
scarcely  asking  prices  ;  and  gave  notes  on  interest  for  large 
balances,  at  each  quarterly  settlement. 

Accumulated  notes,  with  interest,  had  long  ago  placed  him 
in  Bragly's  power,  and  now  was  his  time  to  take  advantage 
of  it.  He  knew  the  value  of  the  timber-lot,  —  it  would  of 
itself  be  a  moderate  independence  to  a  judicious  manager, — 
but  Bragly  resolved  to  have  it  at  his  own  price.  He  under 
stood  business,  and  had  his  victim  in  his  power.  With  this 
acquisition  he  could  build  a  very  large  house. 

He  proposed  the  matter  to  Freeport,  who,  in  spite  of  his 


WOLFSDEN.  1233 

thriftlessness,  was  much  disconcerted.  He  had  long  been 
troubled  with  a  consciousness  of  accumulating  debts,  but 
soothed  himself  with  the  promise  of  paying  off  with  a  portion 
of  his  timber.  Bragly  now  proposed  to  take  the  whole  at  a 
price  which  would  but  half  satisfy  his  claim,  leaving  him  still 
hopelessly  in  debt ;  and  the  ruinous  proposition  could  not  be 
refused,  for  Bragly  spoke  peremptorily,  as  Freeport  had  not 
heard  him  speak  before.  He  saw  that  Bragly  had  a  rough 
side,  as  well  as  a  smooth  one.  He  stammered  some  plea  of 
temporary  delay,  and  wisely,  or  luckily,  went  home  and  laid 
the  whole  case  before  his  mother.  She  was  astonished  at  his 
large  indebtedness  to  Bragly,  and  distressed  at  the  sacrifice  pro 
posed.  She  sent  him  immediately  to  consult  Squire  Chinby, 
the  old  friend  of  the  family,  who  had  advised  settling  Richard 
on  this  farm,  and  had  himself  drawn  the  writings.  Richard 
repaired  at  once  to  Squire  Chinby,  and  stated  the  whole  case, 
—  his  manner  of  dealing  with  Bragly,  his  large  indebtedness, 
and  Bragly's  imperative  and  ruinous  proposition.  Chinby's 
deep  black  eyes  were  filled  with  calm  indignation.  He  saw 
through  the  matter  in  a  moment ;  and  showed  Richard  his 
folly,  and  Bragly's  knavery,  by  producing  his  own  domestic 
accounts,  which  fell  far  short  of  Richard's,  though  his  family 
was  larger,  and  more  abundantly  supplied.  Richard  asked, 
despondingly,  what  he  should  do  about  it. 

"  Do  !  "  said  Chinby ;  "  why,  let  Bragly  eat  you  up,  since 
he  has  got  you  in  his  jaws  !  It  is  such  as  you  that  he  lives 
upon,  and  the  sooner  he  disposes  of  his  fodder  the  better  ;  for 
it  may  diminish  the  breed  of  fools." 

Chinby  sometimes  spoke  roughly ;  but  Richard  was  toe 
much  depressed  to  be  angry,  and,  besides,  he  had  a  strong  im 
20* 


234  WOLfSDEN. 

pression,  from  old  experience,  that  his  help,  if  anywhere,  was 
in  Chinby. 

Chinby  proceeded  with  his  reproaches  and  assurances  of 
irremediable  ruin,  and  pictured  the  coming  misery  of  his  fam 
ily,  till  poor  llichard  was  in  despair.  "  But,"  said  he,  "  it 
may  as  well  be  so  now  as  at  another  time.  If  you  were  free 
from  his  clutches  to-day,  he,  or  some  one  like  him,  would 
grasp  you  to-morrow."  Richard  caught  at  the  implied  sug 
gestion  of  freedom  to-day,  and  solemnly  protested  that,  if  he 
could  be  put  in  a  way  of  relief,  he  would  pay  for  his  folly  by 
future  self-denial  and  hard  work,  till  the  debt  should  be  can 
celled,  and  would  never  be  such  a  fool  again.  Chinby  heard 
him  through,  and  told  him  that  he  would  go  with  him  to 
Bragly,  and  see  what  could  be  done  about  it. 

It  was  not  easy  for  a  rogue  to  maintain  his  position  when 
brought  to  account  \)j  Chinby.  Duplicity  shrunk  before  his 
unquestionable  truth  and  uprightness,  and  conscious  villany 
saw  itself  thoroughly  exposed  in  view  of  his  keen  eye  and 
clear  understanding. 

Besides,  Chinby  had  the  reputation  of  legal  knowledge, 
which  had  been,  in  several  cases,  of  signal  service  to  justice. 
Bragly  knew,  and  was  as  well  prepared  for  all  this,  as  a  mean, 
prevaricating  knave  can  ever  be  prepared  for  the  ordeal  of 
stern,  scrutinizing  justice.  He  had  managed  his  affairs  with 
sufficient  skill  to  defy,  or  at  least  evade,  legal  inquiry ;  and, 
divining  Chinby's  purpose,  he  resolved  to  vindicate  his  own 
position  in  the  upper  class  of  mankind,  by  opposing  bold 
effrontery  to  Chinby's  interference. 

In  this  he  was  moderately  successful.  His  brassy  resolu 
tion  was  not  quite  sufficient,  but  he  took  refuge  in  stolid  dog- 
gedness,  as  impenetrable  as  the  hide  of  the  rhinoceros.  He 


WOLFSDEN.  235 

refused  to  exhibit  his  accounts,  saying  they  were  settled,  and 
that  his  only  claim  on  Freeport  consisted  of  promissory  notes. 
Chinby  was  compelled  to  admit  Bragly 's  boast  that  he  under 
stood  business.  The  utmost  he  could  do  was  to  induce  him  to 
give  twice  what  he  had  proposed  for  the  timber  ;  which  sum, 
being  still  less  than  half  its  value,  but  just  covered  Richard's 
notes.  Having  obtained  this  concession,  Chinby  proposed  that 
the  business  should  be  finished  immediately,  llichard  would 
have  delayed,  in  hopes  of  better  terms  ;  but  Chinby  now  took 
Bragly's  side,  and  insisted  upon  a  prompt  settlement.  He 
would  not  be  a  party  to  any  trifling.  Richard  reluctantly 
consented.  The  papers  were  soon  drawn  and  duly  authenti 
cated,  by  which,  "  for  value  received  and  acknowledged,  said 
Freeport  conveyed  to  said  Bragly,  his  heirs  and  assigns  for 
ever,  all  his  right,  title,  and  interest,  in  the  timber  on  said  lot, 
situated  as  aforesaid,"  &c.  &c. 

The  document  was  drawn  with  lawyer-like  circumlocution, 
verbosity,  and  tautology,  and  exchanged  for  Richard's  notes,  and 
a  receipt  in  full  of  all  demands,  with  impressive  ceremony. 
Chinby  was  grave  and  decisive  as  a  judge,  Freeport  as  spirit 
less  and  passive  as  a  convict,  and  Bragly  as  business-like  and 
blandly  ferocious  as  an  executioner.  Chinby  bade  Bragly 
good-evening,  and  retired  with  Freeport.  "  Xow,"  said  he, 
"  we  will  go  and  see  your  mother,  and  while  on  the  way  please 
to  lay  up  my  counsel.  You  are  now  clear  of  Bragly,  —  keep 
clear  of  him,  and  keep  clear  of  debt.  It  is  the  only  safe  and 
pleasant  way  of  life.  Debt  is  the  destroyer  of  more  happi 
ness  than  all  other  causes  combined.  It  rides  like  a  night 
mare  on  the  necks  of  thousands,  who  all  their  life  long  arc 
struggling  to  hold  their  heads  up,  in  spite  of  the  depressing 


230  WOLFSDEN. 

weight.  If  you  break  every  other  commandment,  keep  this, 
'  Owe  ?io  man  anything? 

"  Say  nothing  about  this  transaction,  and  you  will  save 
your  timber.  When  Bragly  proceeds  to  meddle  with  it,  your 
mother  will  send  him  a  note  which  I  will  prepare  for  her,  and 
which  will  stop  his  proceedings.  You  may  pay  the  amount 
of  whatever  real  value  you  have  received  to  other  families 
whom  he  has  defrauded  and  ruined,  for  otherwise  your  hands 
cannot  be  clean.  It  is  bad  to  be  in  Bragly's  debt,  but  worse 
to  adopt  his  principles." 

Richard's  mother  was  gratified  with  the  arrival  of  her  old 
friend  and  adviser.  She  was  for  the  first  time  made  ac 
quainted  with  the  fact  that  she,  as  residuary  legatee,  was  the 
real  proprietor  of  the  timber,  Richard's  "  right,  title,  and  in 
terest,"  being  nothing  at  all ;  for  Chinby,  who  drew  the  deed 
of  gift,  and  knew  Richard's  simplicity,  which  might  make  him 
the  prey  of  sharpers,  had,  with  the  father's  approbation,  in 
serted  a  clause  reserving  the  timber.  Richard  knew  nothing 
of  it,  and  never  could  have  been  injured  by  it;  for  his  right 
as  heir  would  be  good  on  the  death  of  his  mother,  and  she, 
even  if  she  knew  her  right,  would  not  interfere  in  any  fair 
transaction  of  her  son.  Bragly's  tactics  were  defeated  ;  but 
as  yet  he  knew  it  not.  Why  should  he  be  told  till  it  should 
become  necessary  ?  Troublesome  tidings  are  best  delayed. 
Wrho  can  say,  amid  the  casualties  of  life  and  death,  that  they 
need  ever  be  known  ? 

Bragly's  well  is  sunk  to  a  fearful  depth.  So  are  his  tools, 
the  diggers.  But  the  work  is  not  yet  done.  The  well  must 
be  walled  with  stone.  It  is  necessary  to  keep  the  power  of 
work  in  his  human  machines  till  their  work  is  done. 

The  drouth  is  ended.     Parson  Boreman's  prediction  is  ac- 


WOLFSDEN.  237 

complished.  A  chill  wind  comes  from  the  east ;  leaves  flutter 
and  rustle ;  swallows  fly  low ;  swine  gather  up  sticks  and 
straws  and  carry  them  to  their  beds ;  geese  and  ducks  smooth 
and  oil  their  plumage ;  sheep  and  horses  ranging  in  distant 
pastures  draw  nearer  home ;  signs  multiply ;  the  night  is 
dark,  and  there  is  a  sound  of  abundance  of  rain. 

In  Bang's  dwelling  a  severer  storm  rages.  Sounds  of  vio 
lence,  of  raving  fury,  of  supplicating  terror,  of  fierce  execra 
tion,  howlings  as  of  madness,  wailings  as  of  anguish,  fran 
tic  yells  and  sobbings  of  despair.  Such  scenes  have  often 
been  there,  but  now  the  dire  furies  rage  more  fiercely  than 
ever.  The  livelong  night  the  terrible  tumult  prevails. 

Delirium  tremens,  the  most  horrible  precursor  of  the  hor 
rible  death  of  the  drunkard,  is  upon  Bang.  His  maniac  eyes 
glare  upon  imaginary  monsters.  Huge,  crawling  serpents  sur 
round  and  encircle  him.  Demons  guard  every  door,  and  grin 
with  ghastly  malignity  at  every  window.  A  fearful  shape, 
meditating  some  dire  purpose,  sits  in  the  chimney-corner.  It 
has  the  burly  body  and  sits  in  the  sullen  posture  of  the  long- 
murdered  and  long-remembered  Jotham.  The  head  is  swollen 
•with  horrid  deformity,  and  ever  and  anon  shakes  as  with  some 
settled  purpose  of  revenge.  Bung  shakes  with  terror  and 
raves  with  alternate  defiance.  His  eyes  turn  restlessly  in 
every  direction  upon  horrible  enemies.  He  seeks  to  shun  the 
monsters,  and  rushes  violently  in  various  directions  for  escape. 
He  foams  with  fury,  he  yells  with  terror,  he  groans  with  an 
guish.  The  rain  pours  down  in  torrents  without,  but  not 
enough  to  drown  the  terrible  storm  within. 

In  vain  the  terrified  wife  seeks  to  soothe  him  with  entreat 
ies  and  cries.  The  fearful  children  hide  in  remote  closets,  and 


238  W  0  L  1"  S  D  E  N  . 

tremble  and  moan  piteously.  The  live-long  night  doles  out 
its  successive  hours  of  misery. 

When  the  morning  conies,  the  fit  has  somewhat  subsided, 
and  Bang  lies  in  the  sleep  of  exhaustion ;  yet  his  convulsed 
and  starting  nerves  show  the  agony  that  racks  his  frame. 
The  fires  of  hell,  self-kindled,  as  ever,  torture  and  consume 
him. 

Bragly  has  not  passed  a  pleasant  night.  Something  has 
murdered  sleep.  His  thoughts  have  taken  an  uncomfortable 
turn.  Conscience  troubles  him,  or  rather  that  feeling  which 
is  the  poor  substitute  for  conscience  in  base  minds, —  the  con 
science  which  never  suggests  moral  dissuasives  from  evil,  but 
often  darkly  hints  terrors  of  retribution.  He  revolves  the  un 
welcome  thought  that  he  is  near  sixty.  How  short  seems  the 
last  ten  years !  He  will  soon  be  seventy,  soon  eighty,  soon  be 
dead  ! 

A  strange  impression  that  this  inevitable  destiny  may  come, 
without  even  this  reprieve,  haunted  him.  It  had  unaccount 
ably  done  so  at  other  times  of  late.  Remembered  omens  and 
superstitious  forerunners  thickly  forced  themselves  upon  him. 
The  two  deep  graves  with  which  his  well  was  begun, — 
strange  circumstance  !  He  had  heard  it  remarked  that  when 
old  men  build  houses,  and  lay  new  plans  of  life,  they  soon  die. 
His  thoughts  came  unbidden,  and  obstinately  remained.  He 
could  not  rest.  He  rose  and  lighted  a  candle,  and  proceeded 
to  inspect  his  accounts.  His  eye  fell  upon  Freeport's  convey 
ance.  Even  the  thought  of  this  gainful  transaction  failed  to 
cheer  him.  He  opened  and  examined  the  paper  more  atten 
tively.  It  had  many  useless  words,  but  lacked  some  which 
would  make  it  more  satisfactory.  It  did  not  even  claim  or 
represent  the  timber,  of  which  it  conveyed  Freeport's  "  right, 


WOLFSDEN.  239 

title,  and  interest,"  to  be  his  property,  nor  did  it  guarantee 
against  other  claims.  Why  did  he  not  notice  this  at  the 
time  ?  A  self-abasing  acknowledgment  of  his  awe  of  Chinby 
was  his  only  excuse.  He  could  not  satisfy  himself,  and  laid 
aside  the  document,  and  vainly  tried  to  dismiss  the  discontent. 
But  even  this  discontent  relieved  him,  by  taking  place  of  the 
worse  bugbears  of  his  grovelling  conscience. 

The  rain  poured  down  upon  the  roof.  The  winds  whistled 
dismally  about  his  dwelling.  Sharp  sounds,  like  yells  and 
shrieks,  mingled  with  the  storm.  He  looked  from  the  win 
dow  in  the  direction  of  Bang's  house,  and  divined  the  cause. 
Some  obscure  gleams  of  light  shone  through  the  broken  panes 
and  chinks,  showing  unrest  within.  The  distinct  clamor 
showed  the  usual  cause.  Bragly  muttered  about  the  annoy 
ance  of  such  neighbors  so  near.  His  new  mansion  should 
not  be  disgraced  by  such  surroundings.  Bang  and  his  family 
should  go  to  Herring  Cove,  and  his  unsightly  hovels  be  demol 
ished.  He  resolved  with  the  undebating  decision  of  a  Rus 
sian  despot,  for  he  relied  upon  his  power.  He  returned  to  his 
bed  and  slept,  but  disquietly,  and  rose  in  the  early  morning 
in  morose  mood. 

He  heard  knockings,  and,  on  opening  his  door,  three 
drenched  and  shivering  wretches  appeared.  A  woman,  hag 
gard  and  bruised,  the  revolting  image  of  wretchedness,  lead 
ing  in  each  hand  a  younger  heir  of  misery.  It  was  Susari, 
the  wife  of  Bang.  Such  was  her  extremity  that  now  she 
came  even  to  Bragly,  the  instrument  of  all  her  desolation, 
for  present  help,  —  a  little  help,  shelter,  warmth,  and 
food,  till  Bang  would  let  them  go  home,  and  seek  other 
help. 

The  Russian  despot,  in  his  angry  pride,  might  have  been 


240 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 


as  auspiciously  approached  by  the  meanest  and  most  despised 
of  his  serfs.  The  application  brought  no  relief  to  Susan,  but 
it  relieved  Bragly,  for  it  gave  opportunity  of  exploding  his 
pent-up  discontent. 

"  What  are  you  here  for?  You  're  a  pretty  object  to  come 
draggling  in  the  mud  with  your  brats  !  D'  ye  think  I  '11  have 
such  critters  in  my  premises  ?  Freezing,  do  you  say  ?  —  A 
likely  story,  ia  dog-days  !  Wet  and  cold? —  Well,  go  home 
and  dry  yourselves !  Afraid  of  Bang  ? — You  look  more  like 
frightening  him!  No  wood  nor  vittels ?  —  The  more  shame 
for  you  !  Go  to  the  town,  —  I  owe  you  nothing  !  " 

"  0,  Mr.  Bragly  !  "  implored  Susan,  "  do  not  drive  us  off 
so,  or  a  terrible  judgment  will  come  on  you  !  I  know  it ! 
The  Lord  tells  me  so.  You  have  worked  Bang  for  weeks, 
and  given  his  family  nothing.  It  is  your  rum  that  has  done 
it  all !  Now,  if  you  will  help  me  and  the  children  a  little, 
to  keep  us  from  dying,  I  will  forgive  you.  If  you  don't,  we 
shall  die,  and  God  will  punish  you  !  " 

Susan  had  a  little,  though  but  a  little,  of  her  old  spirit 
left.  Bragly  quailed  a  little,  only  a  little,  under  it.  He 
belonged  to  the  upper  class ;  it  is  the  prerogative  of  aristoc 
racy  to  be  unmoved  by  the  complaints  and  appeals  of  the 
poor. 

But  Bragly  saw,  in  the  hazy  distance,  some  one  approach 
ing,  lie  wished  to  be  rid  of  the  dismal  group  before  him, 
and  told  Susan  to  be  off,  to  go  home,  and  he  would  send  some 
wood  and  some  victuals ;  and  with  this  promise,  which,  if  he 
meant  to  redeem  it  at  all,  would  tax  him  but  with  the  smallest 
and  meanest  portion,  he  shut  the  door  in  Susan's  face,  and 
peeped  from  the  window  to  see  that  she  departed.  Susan 
evidently  was  not  encouraged  by  his  surly  promise.  She 


WOLFSDES.  241 

lingered  a  moment,  but  her  shivering  and  moaning  children 
urged  the  mother's  instincts  to  her  extrernest  efforts.  If  she 
could  only  hold  out  to  get  to  Colonel  Bowler's,  she  could  get 
relief.  It  was  more  than  a  mile  through  the  muddy  road  of 
the  woods,  and  the  wind  and  rain  beat  pitilessly  upon  her 
exhausted  frame,  and  upon  her  cold  and  hungry  children. 
But  there  was  no  other  resource  ;  and  Bragly  sa\v  her  trail 
ing  slowly  off-home,  as  he  supposed,  and  he  felt  a  pleasure 
in  the  success  of  his  tactics. 

The  approaching  figure  was  Chadbourn's  ;  not  a  much 
more  creditable  visitor  than  those  just  departed.  But  Brag 
ly  could  dispose  of  him  more  conveniently ;  and,  besides,  he 
had  still  a  use  for  him.  So  he  supplied  him  with  the  soul- 
expelling  liquid,  and  seated  him  in  his  shop. 

Suddenly  the  storm  lulled  ;  the  wind  abated ;  the  clouds 
parted.  It  looked  light,  —  almost  sunshine.  Bragly  threw 
open  his  shop  door,  and  walked  out  into  his  front  yard,  debat 
ing  of  the  weather,  and  the  expediency  of  sending  for  his 
workmen  to  draw  the  stone  and  wall,  up  his  well.  Bang  just 
then  made  his  appearance  out  of  doors,  looking  about  as 
usual,  and  Bragly  resolved  to  send  nothing  to  Susan,  who 
had  evidently  told  too  big  a  story.  As  Bang  approached,  he 
appeared  to  step  more  briskly,  and  his  countenance  was  more 
animated  than  usual.  His  blood-shot  eyes  did  not  hang 
heavily,  but  gleamed  with  sharp  brightness.  Bragly  sup 
posed  him  just  stimulated  with  a  strong  morning  dram,  and 
rejoiced  that  there  was  still  so  much  material  in  him  to  be 
used  up  ;  for  his  plans  were  expanding,  and  he  needed  more 
tools. 

Bang  approaches,  and  beckons  as  though  he  has  something 
to  tell.  Bragly  has  heard  Susan's  story,  and  would  like  to 
21 


1242  WOLFSDEN. 

«hcar  Bang's,  and  therefore  meets  him  half  way.  Bang  famil 
iarly  lays  his  hand  on  Bragly's  shoulder,  and  begins  to  talk 
incoherently  of  Jotham. 

"  'T  was  I  killed  him,  ten  years  ago  !  I  killed  him  dead, 
dead,  dead  !  But  he  came  again  last  night !  He  brought  ten 
thousand  devils  with  him  !  He  sat  in  the  corner  all  night, 
and  the  devils  kept  round  the  doors  and  windows  ;  —  but  I 
have  just  killed  him  again,  and  drove  them  all  off!  They 
have  carried  off  the  old  woman  and  children  with  'em  ;  but 
will  be  glad  to  let 'em  go  again,  —  ha!  ha!  ha!  —  hurrah 
for  Bang  ! " 

Insanity  is  in  his  eye.  His  familiar  grasp  tightens  upon 
Bragly's  shoulder,  who  tries  to  shake  him  off.  But  the  effort 
only  excites  Bang,  who  grasps  like  his  own  iron  vice.  The 
returning  fit  comes  more  violently  upon  him.  He  glances 
wildly  about ;  and  Bragly,  alarmed,  in  vain  endeavors  to  free 
himself. 

"  There  they  come  !  "  exclaims  the  frenzied  Bang.  "  Jo 
tham  and  his  devils  !  Ho  !  keep  'em  off,  off,  off!  "  and  he 
whirled  Bragly  about,  so  as  to  interpose  his  body  between 
himself  and  the  visionary  objects  of  his  terror.  His  maniac 
strength  is  that  of  a  giant.  Bragly's  struggles  are  impotent 
in  his  grasp,  as  he  whirls  him  about  to  keep  off  the  demon 
crew.  They  are  not  far  from  the  well,  and  in  their  struggles 
upon  the  slippery  ground  are  approaching  nearer  to  it;  but 
the  demons  are  in  the  other  direction,  and  Bang  sees  not  the 
danger  of  the  well. 

With  increasing  terror,  Bragly  tries  to  draw  Bang  another 
way  ;  but  his  struggling  efforts  and  loud  appeals  are  lost  in 
the  stronger  power  and  louder  howls  and  shouts  of  Bang, 
while  each  moment  brings  them  nearer  to  the  dreadful  abyss. 


WOLFSDEN.  243 

Bragly  screams  to  Chadbourn  for  help  ;  and  he  comes  to  the 
door,  in  maudlin  drunkenness,  incapable  of  giving  aid,  or  even 
understanding  the  danger. 

"  I  say-er,"  he  drawls,  "  wot  you-er  doin',  wrastlin'there 
for?  Goit,  oldBang!  Goit,  busters  !  Wot  makes  yer  holler- 
so  ?  Come,  takeadrink  !  Goit,  —  hie  !  " 

The  struggle  ceases  not.  The  sweat  of  deadly  terror  drips 
from  Bragly's  pallid  face  and  quivering  limbs.  They  are 
upon  the  slippery  margin  of  the  well.  The  agonizing  screams 
of  Bragly  mingle  with  the  maniac  howls  of  Bang,  and  are 
answered  from  the  echoing  woods. 

Susan  hears,  and  hurries  on,  for  she  fears  the  pursuit  of 
Bang.  But  the  dreadful  screams  and  yells  have  suddenly 
ceased.  Only  the  driving  rain  and  moaning  winds  disturb 
nature's  silence. 

Pale,  drenched,  shivering,  exhausted,  staggering,  Susan 
reached  Colonel  Bowler's,  with  her  wretched  children,  and 
briefly  told  her  story.  Pitying  eyes  and  ready  hands  re 
ceived  the  sufferers.  Susan  was  quickly  placed  in  bed,  and 
her  trembling  limbs  chafed  and  warmed ;  and  she  was  re 
freshed  with  nourishment,  as  fast  as  safety  allowed.  The 
children  required  less  cautious  treatment,  and  in  an  hour 
were  bright  and  active  as  ever. 

Ike  started  off  to  see  about  Bang,  —  chiefly  that  Susan 
might  be  satisfied.  Arriving  at  the  miserable  dwelling,  a 
scene  of  wild  disorder  was  shown.  All  doors  were  open,  all 
windows  broken.  Crockery,  clothing,  furniture,  and  rubbish, 
were  mingled  and  hurled  in  every  direction.  The  chimney- 
corner,  where  Bang  saw  the  spectral  Jotham,  was  filled  and 
battered  with  various  heavy  missiles.  But  no  living  being 
remained  in  the  house.  Looking  in  the  direction  of  Bragly's, 


244  WOLFSDEN. 

Ike  saw  Chadbouru  near  the  well,  in  loud  consultation  with 
the  deaf  old  housekeeper  in  the  door,  each  shouting  question 
and  reply,  but  neither  understanding  the  other,  while  Chad- 
bourn  pointed  to  the  well  with  earnest  gesticulations.  With 
some  misgivings  of  what  may  have  happened,  Ike  ap 
proached  Chadbourn,  who,  still  drunk,  pointed  to  the  well, 
and  exclaimed, 

"  Theretheybe,  goners, — gone-downers  !  Tumbledin,  all  of- 
'm,  wrastlin' !  Bangandallof'em,  wrastlin'  !  Old  Bragly- 
andallof'em,  wrastlin' ! " 

Ike  placed  a  plank  and  looked  over  the  edge.  Down  fifty 
feet  in  the  murky  depth,  the  straining  eye  indistinctly  saw 
two  bodies  lying  across,  and  partly  covered  with  mud  and 
water.  The  dreadful  truth  of  Chadbourn's  incoherent  expla 
nation  was  apparent.  People  were  summoned,  and  the  life 
less  bodies  of  Bang  and  Bragly,  the  mutual  destroyers  and 
avengers,  the  aristocrat  and  plebeian,  the  tactician  and  the 
man  of  muscle,  each  bereft  of  their  power  and  levelled  now, 
were  drawn  up  and  laid  side  by  side. 

There  was  a  great  concourse  of  people  at  the  funeral ;  — 
curiosity  attracts  more  strongly  than  sympathy.  Parson 
Boreman  preached  with  his  usual  eloquence,  from  the  text, 
"  Man  goeth  to  his  long  home,  and  the  mourners  go  about 
the  streets."  He  proved  at  length,  from  Scripture  and  na 
ture,  that  all  men  must  die,  sooner  or  later  ;  that  no  man 
knoweth  the  time  or  manner  of  his  death,  or  who  among  us 
shall  follow  next,  &c.  &c.  The  widowed  Susan  being  not  yet 
enough  recovered  to  attend  the  funeral,  Bang's  present  condi 
tion  was  pretty  plainly  assumed  as  anything  but  enviable, 
and  his  eternal  ruin  plainly  shown  to  be  from  his  habitual 
neglect  of  Sabbath  ordinances ;  and  not,  as  some  may  have 


WOLFSDEN.  245 

supposed,  from  neglect  of  week-day  duties,  and  indulgence 
of  every-day  drunkenness. 

Bragly's  state  of  mind  not  being  fully  known  to  the  minis 
ter,  his  fate  was  left  somewhat  dubious  ;  though  the  fact  of 
his  recently  awakened  interest  in  missionary  and  tract  opera 
tions  gave  consoling  grounds  of  hope.  From  which  it  may 
be  inferred  that  the  aristocrat  yet  maintains  his  ascendency, 
in  spite  of  the  leveller  Death  !  Bragly's  five  dollars  to  the 
missionary  fund  was  a  lucky  investment.  His  tactics  are  an 
example. 

Not  having  room  for  a  synopsis  of  the  sermon,  we  can  only 
hope  that  the  parson  may  be  persuaded  to  gratify  the  public, 
and  console  perambulating  mourners,  by  publishing  it,  either 
separately,  or  as  an  appendix  to  the  treatise  of  the  lost 
tribes. 

21* 


CHAPTEll    XIV. 


WE  left  Alek  on  the  road  by  the  banks  of  the  Saco.  If 
the  reader  expects  to  find  him  there  still,  then  we  have  failed 
properly  to  represent  his  onward  energy.  Alek  is  in  New 
York.  He  has  been  there  three  months.  He  knows  things 
not  understood  in  "Wolfsden.  His  eyes  are  wider  awake,  his 
step  brisker,  his  attitude  bolder  and  more  self-confident. 

He  does  not  slouch  along  the  sidewalks  jostling  the  pas 
sengers,  nor  stand  in  the  gutters  to  give  them  room.  He 
does  not  pause  to  read  the  Valentines,  or  gaze  at  the  carica 
tures  in  the  shop-windows.  He  does  not  follow  the  strutting 
military  feathered  bipeds,  whom  Plato  excluded  from  his  defi 
nition  of  man  ;  nor  loiter  near  the  organ-grinder,  nor  mingle 
with  the  simpletons  about  the  mock-auction  stands.  The 
Jews  of  Chatham-street  do  not  pull  him  in  at  their  doors  to 
buy  second-hand  finery  and  gilded  jewelry ;  nor  the  Bowery 
boys  familiarly  address  him  with  schemes  of  raffling  and  lot 
tery  speculations  ;  nor  the  frail  women  accost  him  with  their 
enticements.  When  he  moves,  it  is  with  the  manner  of  one 
who  has  business  to  do  ;  and  when  he  stops,  it  is  because  he 
has  arrived  at  the  place  to  do  it. 

Alek  found  business.  Prompt  men  can  always  find  some 
thing  to  do  in  New  York.  Those  of  small  ambition  may 


WOLFSDEN.  247 

enter  menial  employments.  Those  who  have  a  knack  at 
shrewd  tricks  can  live  by  their  wits.  Men  of  higher  capac 
ities,  and  better  energies,  can  quickly  find  or  make  a  way  to 
respectable  employments.  Alek  was  not  avaricious  nor  sen 
sual  ;  his  motive  was  not  to  hoard  money,  nor  to  spend  it  in 
vulgar  gratifications.  To^  learn  men,  manners,  business,  and 
the  philosophy  of  life,  he  counted  the  best  present  use  of  the 
new  school  to  which  he  came.  A  moderate  salary  satisfied 
him,  and  with  it  he  gained  a  character,  for  energy  and  reliabil 
ity  which  would  be  a  sufficient  stepping-stone  to  another  posi 
tion  when  he  should  choose. 

Alek's  access  to  employment  was,  however,  made  more 
easy  and  speedy  by  Harry's  introductory  letter  to  his  uncle, 
the  merchant. 

Mr.  Samuel  Boynton  was  a  merchant  of  the  old-fashioned 
sort,  high-minded,  methodical,  somewhat  formal  and  self- 
opinionated,  and  having  faith  in  the  old  institutions  and  doc 
trines  in  which  he  was  moulded.  He  believed  in  Fast-day 
sermons  and  Fourth-of-July  orations,  in  the  piety  of  his 
church  and  the  patriotism  of  his  party.  He  was  nobly  edu 
cated  for  times  long  since  gone  by,  and  he  still  nourished  and 
brooded  old"  notions,  us  the  careful  hen  broods  her  eggs,  after 
they  are  long  addled.  But  his  practices,  prompted  by 
the  instincts  of  a  benevolent  heart,  were  often  at  variance 
with  the  policy  and  feeling  of  the  society  and  party  to  which 
he  was  allied,  and  in  whose  support  he  was  compelled  to  sup 
press  many  misgivings.  He  was  life-member  of  the  A.  B.  C. 
F.  31.,  and  yet  contributed  to  the  Union  Missionary  Society, 
which  condemns  the  A.  B.  C.  F.  M.  At  his  table  sound  doc 
tors  of  divinity  sometimes  met  radical  reformers,  and  would 
find  the  Boston  Liberator  side  by  side  with  the  New  York 


248  TfOLFSDKN. 

Observer.  His  toleration  satisfied  neither  party.  Conserva 
tives  saw  that  his  influence  encouraged  disorganizing  prin 
ciples,  and  radicals  complained  that  conservatives  were  able 
to  claim  so  liberal  a  man  as  one  of  their  party.  Yet  neither 
ventured  to  remonstrate ;  for  Mr.  B.  was  not  a  man  to  bear 
dictation. 

Alek  chanced  to  arrive  in  New  York  during  the  "  anniver 
sary  week,"  celebrated  by  religious  and  other  associations  ; 
and,  accepting  Mr.  Boynton's  cordial  invitation,  found  himself, 
at  the  dinner-hour,  seated  at  a  more  sumptuous  table,  with  a 
finer  and  better-dressed  company,  than  he  had  before  seen  ; 
for  those  who  attend  the  anniversaries  are  generally  the  most 
respectable  of  their  respective  societies,  and  of  those  some 
of  the  most  distinguished  were  always  allotted  to  Mr.  Boyn- 
ton's  hospitality ;  such  matters  being  mostly  arranged  by 
private  understanding  of  the  leaders,  though  the  entertainer 
is  also  entitled  to  invite  whom  he  chooses.  This  privilege  Mr. 
Boynton  had  exercised  by  inviting  not  only  Alek,  but  also 
another  person,  more  prominent,  though  much  less  congenial 
to  the  general  taste  and  feelings  of  the  guests.  This  was  no 
other  than  the  noted  Mr.  Paradox,  the  incendiary  leader  and 
agitating  apostle  of  one  of  the  most  radical,  subversive,  and 
formidable  associations  of  the  time. 

No  other  person  had  so  early  in  life  engaged  so  large  a 
share  of  public  attention,  or  been  the  object  of  so  earnest  and 
opposite  feelings.  Scarcely  a  paper  in  the  United  Slates  was 
issued  without  an  article  or  paragraph  relating  to  him,  of 
which  a  large  proportion  expressed  the  severest  condemnation 
and  abhorrence ;  the  soundest  and  most  patriotic  of  the  polit 
ical  and  religious  papers  being  most  frequent  and  earnest  in 


TV  0  L  ¥  S  D  E  N  .  249 

their  anathemas,  which,  indeed,  was  the  surest  proof  of  their 
soundness  and  patriotism. 

Mr.  Paradox  well  deserved  all  the  abuse  he  received ;  for 
he  had  done  more  to  overthrow  and  destroy  the  deference  and 
veneration  attached  to  the  time-hallowed  institutions  which 
divines  and  patriots  support,  and  by  which  they  profit,  than 
any  man  or  demon  since  the  days  of  Dr.  Faustus  ;  having, 
besides  his  individual  influence,  opened  sluices  of  public 
thought  and  feeling,  through  which  an  increasing  current  of 
opinion  still  rushes,  endangering  the  sacred  foundations  of 
church  and  state. 

By  the  side  of  Mr.  Paradox  sat  no  less  a  personage  than 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Paragon,  so  celebrated  for  his  learning,  his 
piety,  and  his  position,  being  the  acknowledged  head  of  the 
only  true  and  infallible  religious  sect  in  the  land,  all  the 
other  ninety-nine  being  clearly  gone  astray,  and  corrupted 
with  the  most  palpable  and  damning  errors. 

Thus,  by  chance  or  contrivance,  were  these  champions  of 
their  respective  fields  placed  in  proximity,  and  compelled  to 
the  interchange  of  courteous  salutations.  Dr.  Paragon  being 
much  the  oldest  man,  and  also  an  official  dignitary,  the  option 
of  debate  properly  belonged  to  him  ;  and  therefore  Mr.  Para 
dox,  who  is  always  the  most  civil  when  he  meditates  most 
mischief,  abstained  from  provocation,  and  joined  blandly  in 
general  remarks.  But,  under  the  circumstances,  collision  was 
unavoidable ;  for  the  reverend  doctor  was  surrounded  by  friends, 
who  expected  the  onset,  which  his  position  would  not  allow 
him  to  decline,  and,  therefore,  gathering  up  his  learning,  dig 
nity,  and  eloquence,  he  proceeded  to  an  overpowering  on 
slaught  upon  his  adversary. 

He  began  by  showing  the  disorganizing  character  of  all 


250  WOLFSDEN. 

radical  movements,  which,  originating  outside  of  the  church 
are  unauthorized  by  Scripture,  and  necessarily  hostile  to 
divine  authority.  He  instanced  the  dangerous  character  of 
abolitionism,  which  he  pronounced  false  in  its  principles  and 
fatal  in  its  tendencies,  lie  proved  from  Moses  and  St.  Paul 
the  scriptural  sanction  of  slavery,  as  an  institution  appointed 
by  God  and  approved  by  his  apostles  ;  and  testified  to  the 
general  piety  of  the  slaveholders,  which  he  favorably  con 
trasted  with  the  want  ef  reverence  for  the  Scripture,  the 
Sabbath,  and  the  church,  shown  by  leading  abolitionists,  some 
of  whose  attacks  he  specified  and  repelled  ;  and  also  showed 
that  his  own  sect  were  faithful  to  their  duty  in  preaching  the 
Gospel,  in  whose  light  slavery,  and  all  other  evils,  would 
finally  be  overcome.  He  also  claimed  for  himself  and  breth 
ren,  north  and  south,  that  they  were  the  only  true  abolition 
ists,  inasmuch  as  they  sincerely  mourned  and  prayed  over  the 
evil,  and  patiently  waited  God's  time  for  its  removal :  which 
might,  perhaps,  have  already  been  accomplished,  but  for  the 
mischievous  agitation  of  professed  abolitionists. 

The  dignified  company  were  pleased  with  the  ability  and 
approved  the  severity  of  their  champion's  discourse  ;  and  even 
Mr.  Paradox,  by  the  respectful  attention  he  gave,  showed 
that  he  appreciated  the  honor  of  being  demolished  by  so  dis 
tinguished  a  divine.  Yet,  true  to  his  name  and  nature,  he 
must  needs  reply,  and  that,  too,  in  a  manner  both  perplexing 
and  provoking. 

He  said  that  he  would  not  dispute  with  so  learned  a  critic 
upon  interpretations  of  Scripture,  but  thought  that,  if  its 
mission  in  the  world  was  to  establish  slavery,  mankind  might 
have  managed  to  get  along  without  its  light,  since  many 
heathen  nations,  unaided  by  revelation,  had  adopted  th« 


WOLFSDEN.  251 

institution.  He  apprehended  that,  with  such  interpretations, 
the  Bible  would  lose  its  authority,  in  reflecting  minds.  u  As," 
said  he,  "  it  seems  already  to  be  disregarded  by  yourself  and 
brethren,  since  you  '  mourn  and  pray  for  the  removal  '  of  an 
'institution  which  it  sanctions, as  appointed  by  God  himself, 
and  approved  by  his  apostles.' "  Upon  the  doctor's  claim 
for  himself  and  friends  to  be  the  only  true  abolitionists,  he 
expressed  pleasure  in  hearing  of  the  progress  of  truth  in  such 
quarters;  and,  as  to  the  imputation  of  having  put  back  God's 
time  for  doing  the  work,  he  replied  by  a  modest  doubt  of  his 
ability  to  control  the  purposes  of  Omnipotence,  even  if  he  had 
the  wish  to  do  so. 

Notwithstanding  the  conciliatory  manner  of  the  reply,  the 
reverend  doctor  was  not  mollified,  and  answered,  quickly,  "  Sir, 
you  misrepresent  my  views.  I  was  discussing  the  abstract 
question  concerning  the  fundamental  principles  of  the  relation, 
whether  it  be  necessarily  such  a  malum  in  se  as  may  not  exist 
salvafide  et  salva  ecclesia." 

"  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Paradox,  "  as  to  misrepresenting  your 
views,  I  cannot  do  that  knowingly,  for  they  are  to  me  incom 
prehensible  ;  but,  as  it  seems  they  relate  only  to  abstractions, 
they  do  not  concern  me,  for  my  business  is  with  realities." 

Such  was  the  irreverence  with  which  Mr.  Paradox  some 
times  replied  to  the  most  revered  dignitaries.  Alek,  who 
had  been  but  a  few  hours  in  New  York,  and  whose  rustic 
reason  was  as  yet  unused  to  the  refined  light  in  which  mat 
ters  are  judged  in  the  city,  supposed  the  reverend  doctor  van 
quished  in  the  debate ;  but  the  evident  disapprobation  with 
which  the  remarks  of  Mr.  Paradox  were  received  by  the 
clerical  company,  and  the  deference  and  admiration  with 
which  the  doctor  was  listened  to,  showed  that  an  opposite 


252  WOLFSDEN. 

opinion  prevailed.  The  matter  was  soon  set  right  before  the 
public. by  the  following  paragraph  in  a  popular  daily  paper  : 

"  The  Rev.  Doctor  Paragon,  while  dining  with  a  company 
of  distinguished  divines,  was  bitterly  assailed  and  denounced 
by  the  notorious  Mr.  Paradox,  who  had,  by  some  means, 
obtained  admission.  The  venerable  divine,  in  the  most 
gentlemanly  and  Christian  manner,  rebuked  the  incendiary 
fanatic,  and,  with  the  ready  eloquence  which  marks  his  pri 
vate  conversation,  no  less  than  his  public  performances,  vin 
dicated  Christianity  and  the  church  from  his  imputations,  and 
exposed  the  reckless  folly  and  impiety  of  the  fanatic  crew 
who  are  endeavoring  to  excite  the  public  mind,  and  disturb 
the  peace  of  society.  If  these  proceedings  are  persisted  in, 
it  may  become  a  duty  to  arrest  them  by  summary  process. 
Let  the  outraged  public  see  that  order  and  decency  are  pre 
served  in  their  meeting  at  the  Tabernacle  this  evening." 

Alek,  to  whom  such  views  of  life  were  new,  resolved  to 
attend  the  meeting  at  the  Tabernacle,  where,  notwithstanding 
the  suggested  summary  process,  a  very  large  audience  assem 
bled.  As  the  addresses  proceeded,  it  soon  became  evident, 
by  the  increasing  uproar,  which,  commencing  with  hisses  and 
stamping,  soon  grew  to  shouts  and  yells,  that  many  had  come, 
according  to  the  suggestion  of  the  papers,  to  preserve  order 
and  decency.  But,  notwithstanding  their  efforts,  the  most 
violent  disorder  soon  manifested  itself,  until,  at  length,  a  gal 
lant  and  distinguished  captain  (whose,  patriotism  has  since 
been  politically  rewarded)  sprang  upon  the  platform  occupied 
by  the  speakers,  and,  brandishing  a  formidable  weapon, 
solemnly  swore,  by  the  powers  celestial  and  infernal,  that  the 
speeches  should  be  stopped ;  and,  being  backed  by  a  band  of 
choice  spirits,  soon  caused  the  dispersion  of  the  assembly. 


WOLFSDEN.  25d 

Among  the  speakers  was  a  lady,  who,  in  the  mildest  man 
ner  and  most  impressive  language,  insisted  that  manly  honor, 
equally  with  Christian  duty,  required  of  men  to  protect  the 
humble  and  proscribed ;  and  that  to  uphold  the  oppression  of 
the  poor  —  for  thus  she  designated  slavery  —  was  unmanly 
as  well  as  unchristian,  and,  when  done  by  those  who  them 
selves  belonged  to  the  industrious  class,  and  were  therefore 
bound  by  policy  to  preserve  the  rights  and  dignity  of  labor, 
was  inexpressibly  mean,  and  was  sure  to  incur  the  contempt 
of  honorable  men,  even  among  slaveholders  themselves,  as 
well  as  to  provoke  the  vengeance  of  God.  These  and  the  like 
obnoxious  sentiments  were  promptly  hissed,  and  stamped  with 
the  disapprobation  of  the  orderly  and  decent  portion  of  the 
audience. 

Alek,  who  occupied  a  remote  part  of  the  gallery,  was  not 
an  indifferent  spectator;  and  we  are  compelled  to  confess 
that  his  rustic  sympathies  were  not  on  the  side  of  the  pre 
servers  of  order  and  decency,  but  rather  with  the  fanatics  on 
the  platform ;  so  that,  when  several  brave  fellows  about  him 
proposed  to  second  the  laudable  exploits  of  the  valiant  cap 
tain,  by  mobbing  the  ladies  as  they  emerged  from  the  door, 
he  grasped  his  cudgel  tightly,  with  an  impulse  to  remonstrate. 
He,  however,  said  nothing,  but  kept  with  those  about  him,  who 
supposed  him  to  be  of  the  same  mind  ;  and  they,  observing 
his  stalwart  and  vigorous  frame,  proposed  putting  him  for 
ward  as  leader,  —  which  honor  he  declined,  as  being  a  stranger. 
This  position  was  voluntarily  assumed  by  an  able-bodied 
patriot,  named  Bludgeon. 

Although  Alek  declined  leadership,  he  kept  in  front  of  the 
enterprising  squad ;  and,  as  they  neared  the  female  group, 
and  Mr.  B.,  supported  by  those  behind  him,  rushed  forward 
22 


254  WOLFSDEN. 

to  execute  the  "  summary  process  "  by  seizing  the  female 
orator,  Alek,  with  a  powerful  and  dextrous  blow  upon  the 
head,  doubled  him  up,  there  not  being  room  to  fall  prostrate, 
and  then,  thrusting  the  end  of  his  cudgel  furiously  into  the 
faces  of  his  supporters,  to  the  irreparable  damage  of  eyes, 
noses,  and  teeth,  so  discouraged  them  that  they  desisted  from 
their  purpose,  and  the  fanatics  passed  unharmed,  while  Alek 
mingled  with  the  crowd,  and  left  the  ground.  Full  details 
of  this  affair  may  be  found  in  the  secular  and  religious 
papers  of  the  time,  under  the  head  of  "Abolition  Riots" 
recorded  with  that  admirable  regard  for  candor  and  truth 
which  has  always  characterized  their  representations  of  such 
affairs. 


CHAPTER    XV. 


IN  recording  Alek's  adventures,  exploits,  mistakes,  and 
mischances,  we  do  not  pretend  to  portray  a  perfect  charac 
ter,  such  as  a  mere  novelist  might  invent,  but  only  to  tell 
things  as  they  took  place,  without  embellishment  or  conceal 
ment.  But,  in  our  comments,  modes  of  expression,  and 
moral  reflections,  now  that  we  have  introduced  our  hero  to 
the  arena  of  city  life,  we  shall  carefully  conform  to  the 
fashionable  tone.  Far  be  it  from  us  to  violate  the  proprie 
ties  of  the  press,  by  giving  utterance  to  unpopular  sentiments, 
or  disturbing  the  placid  stream  of  public  opinion,  upon  whose 
unruffled  surface  we  hope  to  sail.  The  polite  reader  may, 
therefore,  confidently  expect  to  be  gratified  with  refinement 
of  expression  and  sentiment,  and  perfect  conformity  of  taste 
and  principle  with  prevailing  modes ;  and,  if  any  unfashion 
able  sentiment  should  unawares  appear,  the  reader  is  begged 
to  consider  it  a  mistake,  and  to  cancel  it  accordingly.  With 
this  definition  of  our  position  and  plan,  which  the  last  few 
pages  illustrate,  we  proceed  in  the  same  spirit  to  this  new 
chapter.  — Vive  la  bagatelle  ! 

We  have  already  announced  that  Alek  had  obtained  em 
ployment.  It  was  with  Messrs.  Greening  and  Russet,  and 
through  the  introduction  of  Mr.  Boyntoii.  Mr.  Greening  was 


256  WOLFSDEN. 

partner  and  chief  business  agent  of  a  manufactory  where 
many  strange  and  uncouth  instruments  are  made  of  wood  and 
iron,  for  the  convenience  of  a  rustic  and  semi-civilized  people, 
•who  occupy  remote  regions  of  considerable  extent,  and  find 
in  rude  occupations  some  solace  for  the  deprivations  of  their 
condition.  Adapted  to  their  simple  tastes  is  a  beam  of 
strong  wood,  to  the  centre  of  which  projecting  portions  of 
iron,  crooked  and  clumsy  in  form,  are  attached,  while  one 
end  of  the  beam  is  ornamented  with  handles,  bent  like  the 
ivory  end  of  a  parasol,  but  much  larger,  and  very  strong. 
This  preposterous  and  absurd  instrument  they  call  a  "  plough," 
and  count  it  of  more  use  and  advantage  than  piano  or  harpsi 
chord,  which  they  even  affect  to  disdain.  Huge  iron  spikes, 
driven  through  a  strong  wooden  frame,  with  the  points  left 
projecting  on  one  side,  make  what  they  call  a  harrow,  with 
which  they  are  much  pleased.  A  flat  plate  of  iron  or  steel 
attached  to  a  wooden  handle  is  also  in  request  among  them, 
and  is  called,  according  to  its  size  and  form,  "  spade," 
"  shovel,"  or  "hoe  "  (the  term  "  spade  "  is  most  absurdly  ap 
plied,  as  the  instrument  has  no  use  analogous  to  the  suit  of 
cards  of  that  name).  It  should  be  observed  that  when  the 
plate  of  iron  which  forms  the  termination  of  this  toy  is 
divided  into  separate  prongs,  as  the  web-foot  of  a  duck  may 
be  divided  by  removing  the  filmy  skin  which  unites  the  toes, 
the  mutilated  instrument  is  then  called  a  pitchfork,  —  the  use, 
however,  differing  from  the  pitchfork  of  musicians.  Long, 
curved  knives  are  also  fastened  to  handles,  sometimes  long  and 
sometimes  short,  and  called  sickles,  or  scythes  ;  and  these  are 
used  to  cut  down  the  vegetation,  which,  growing  up  to  two  or 
three  feet  in  a  season,  would  otherwise,  by  the  accumulated 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  .  257 

growth  of  a  few  years,  render  the  region  impassable,  pave 
ments  and  sidewalks  being  there  unknown. 

The  reader  would  perhaps  be  pleased  with  a  personal  de 
scription  of  Mr.  Greening,  the  manager  of  this  manufactory. 
Mr.  Greening  is  a  pleasant  elderly  gentleman,  —  elderly  in 
years,  but  juvenile  in  appearance,  being  fat,  round,  ruddy,  and 
agile.  Good  nature,  good  living,  and  good  luck,  have  kept 
him  fat,  round,  and  ruddy,  and  much  business  has  kept  him 
agile.  He  does  not  look  like  a  man  of  much  calculation  ;  yet 
his  face  is  mathematical,  or,  at  least,  geometrical,  for  it  is 
formed  of  circles  —  wheels  within  wheels.  Its  outline  is  a 
circle,  bounding  the  front  disk  of  a  spherical  head.  The  tip 
of  the  nose  is  its  exact  centre.  Between  this  and  the  upper 
segment  two  circular  blue  eyes  expand  their  orbits,  and  on 
either  side  the  ruddy  cheeks  repeat  the  orbic  order.  In  the 
lower  segment  the  smooth-shaven  lips  enclose  a  circular 
puckered  mouth  —  puckered,  but  yet  smooth.  A  hemispheric 
chin,  like  half  an  orange,  with  a  central  dimple,  completes 
the  physiognomy.  The  whole  is  not  badly  represented  by  the 
moon  on  the  old-fashioned  clock-face.  People,  at  first  look, 
might  not  think  him  profound ;  but  in  his  business  he  is 
prompt,  shrewd,  and  successful. 

No  man  is  more  than  half  known  till  you  know  his  wife, 
and  therefore  Mrs.  Greening  must  be  introduced. 

Mr.  Greening  must  have  been  led  to  his  wife  by  that  mys 
terious  affinity  which  disposes  so  many  to  choose,  as  the  com 
plement  of  their  sphere,  partners  as  opposite  as  possible, 
not  only  in  sex,  but  also  in  all  physical  and  mental  char 
acteristics.  Thus  men  short  and  fat  look  for  ladies  long 
and  lean.  Black  eyes  look  lovingly  upon  blue.  Pretty  faces 
•wed  with  plain ;  the  philosopher  fancies  a  fool ;  and  the 
22* 


258.  WOLFSDEN. 

strong-minded  woman  is  willingly  wooed  and  won  by  a  sim 
pleton.  The  man  of  stalwart  stature  is  entangled  and  cap 
tured  in  the  net  of  some  tiny  sylph  ;  while  an  ample  and 
robust  virago  seizes  a  dapper  dandy  in  her  Amazonian  em 
brace,  and  bears  him  in  triumph  to  the  matrimonial  altar. 

In  one  respect  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Greening  come  under  the 
same  description  ;  for  she  is  also  formed  geometrically,  —  not 
of  circles,  but  of  angles.  Her  body  is  almost  linear,  for  it 
has  extension  without  much  breadth  or  thickness.  Her  head 
is  a  polyhedron  ;  her  face,  a  trapezium  ;  her  chin,  a  truncated 
pyramid.  Though  not  a  projector,  she  is  full  of  projections; 
she  is  not  a  speculator,  but  is  always  cornered. 

Not  that  Mrs.  Greening  is  ugly ;  her  sharp  black  eyes,  and 
delicate  complexion,  and  lady-like  expression,  and  judicious 
arrangement  of  curls  and  ribbons  and  muslin,  rounding  the 
corners  and  filling  up  the  crannies  about  the  boundaries  of 
her  countenance,  redeem  her  from  that  imputation.  The 
remainder  of  her  frame  the  dress-maker  covers  and  finishes 
to  a  charm ;  in  fact,  to  many  charms,  demonstrating  the  tri 
umphs  of  padding,  buckram,  whalebon-3,  cord,  and  all  the 
materiel  of  female  architecture. 

Mrs.  Greening  is  a  pensive  lady,  serious,  devout,  and 
valetudinarian.  She  never  visits  the  theatre,  and  she  dis 
approves  of  dancing ;  yet  she  has  resources  of  enjoyment  ex 
quisite  and  unfailing.  They  come  in  packages,  in  powders, 
in  boxes,  and  bottles.  Brandreth,  Moffat,  Old  Dr.  Jacob 
Townsend  and  young  Dr.  Townsend  (rivals,  whose  mutual 
vilifications  she  discredits,  but  whose  self-boastings  she  has 
full  faith  in),  Swaim,  Jayne,  and  the  immortal  inventor  of 
Russia  Salve,  and  a  hundred  other  empirics  —  these  be  her 
gods.  Their  oracles  she  studies,  and  their  nectar  she  sips. 


WOLFSDEN.  259 

Her  medical  researches,  if  not  profound,  are  extensive,  ex 
perimental,  and  persevering.  She  has  been  steamed  by 
Thomson,  and  soused  by  Noggs ;  braced'  by  Consumption 
Fitch,  and  manipulated  by  Dislocation  Ilewett,  and  every 
bone,  spine,  corn,  and  other  deformity  doctor. 

Blessed  be  the  man  who  first  invented  patent  medicines, 
and  thus  opened  regions  of  delight  unknown  before  !  A  lux 
urious  Ca>sar,  in  degenerate  days,  offered  rewards  to  him  who 
would  invent  a  new  pleasure ;  but  Xature  had  not  yet  per 
fected  the  brains  that  could  devise  luxuries  like  these  for  the 
delectation  of  half  mankind. 

Why  sing  of  the  "  good  time  coming  "  ?  0,  that  the  poet 
of  quackery  would  arise,  and  sing  the  advent  of  these  aus 
picious  days  —  of  the  good  time  already  come  !  Why  do  not 
a  grateful  people  bestow  ^rewards,  and  decree  triumphs,  and 
build  monuments,  to  these  joy-producing  benefactors  ? 

Shall  it  be  replied  that  the  injury  they  do  exceeds  their 
benefit  ?  —  that  they  poison  constitutions,  weaken  and  destroy 
the  sanative  functions  of  nature,  shorten  lives,  rob  the  foolish 
and  ignorant  of  money  on  false  pretences  of  cure,  and  fill  the 
papers  with  lying  advertisements,,  supported  by  forged  and 
fraudulent  certificates  ?  Of  what  account  is  all  this?  Perish 
the  paltry  objections  !  What  isjife  without  luxury?  What 
is  the  use  of  money  but  to  purchase  pleasure  ?  Of  what  use 
is  the  press  but  to  circulate  mingled  falsehood  and  truth, 
that  people  may  select  as  fancy  wills?  Shall  we  forego  the 
subtle  virtues  of  essences,  elixirs,  anodynes,  panaceas,  bal 
sams,  and  balms  distilled  from  a  thousand  flowers  ;  got  from 
mountain  tops  and  valleys  deep,  and  subterranean  caves;  from 
islands  of  antipodal  oceans,  and  barbarous  lands  beyond 
Japan ;  handed  down  from  seventh  son  to  seventh  son, 


260  WOLFSDEN. 

through  countless  generations  ;  obtained  from  Indians  of  un 
discovered  shores ;  revealed  by  miraculous  accident ;  set  forth 
in  luminous  literature ;  attested  by  victims  reprieved  from 
predestined  death,  whose  souls  still  linger  on  this  stormy  side 
of  Styx,  to  give  supernatural  testimony  to  supernatural  cures  ? 
If  it  be  shown  that  wedlock  and  motherhood  impair  health 
and  shorten  life,  who  for  that  would  forego  the  dearest  delights 
of  life,  to  extend  the  joyless  days  and  nights  of  cold  celi 
bacy  ? 

Uncork  your  bottles,  unseal  your  boxes,  mingle  your 
powders,  sip  your  drops,  swallow  your  pills,  and  spread  your 
salves,  ye  daughters  of  delicate  complaints ;  so  shall  you 
sweetly  live  and  softly  die  ! 


CHAPTER    XVI. 


ALEK  soon  stood  high  with  his  employer.  His  business 
related  to  the  selection  and  adaptation  of  the  materials  for 
the  fanciful  trinkets  manufactured  at  Greening  &  Russet's 
establishment,  as  already  described,  the  uses  and  proper 
qualities  of  which  Alek  understood  long  ago.  He  possessed 
rare  judgment  and  faithfulness,  as  his  employers  speedily  as- 
"certained.  Mr.  Greening  shrewdly  foresaw  prosperity  in 
Alek's  path.  His  inquiries  confirmed  his  good  opinion  of 
Alek  and  of  hie  family,  and  he  cogitated  secret  thoughts. 

Mr.  Greening  had  a  daughter  whom  he  doted  upon,  and 
with  good  reason  ;  at  least,  such  good  reason  as  fond  parents 
usually  have  for  their  partiality.  Sophia  was  blue-eyed,  like 
her  father,  and  moulded  after  the  same  order,  but  much 
beautified.  His  circularity  was  in  her  abated  to  a  graceful 
roundness  and  lovableness,  such  as  the  eyes  willingly  linger 
upon.  Sophia  was  her  father's  favorite,  as  her  brother 
Augustus  was  the  mother's.  Augustus  resembled  his  mother 
in  her  style  of  structure,  but  was  built  with  more  sym 
metry.  It  is  perhaps  for  this  mutual  softening  of  opposite 
qualities  in  the  race  that  nature  contrives,  by  instinctive 
choice,  to  bring  together  parents  so  dissimilar. 


262  W  0  L  F  S  D  F<  N  . 

Son  and  daughter  were  educated  as  those  who  have  much 
wealth,  much  fondness,  and  not  too  much  severe  philosophy, 
educate  offspring  whose  natural  perfections  need  little  train 
ing.  The  best-endowed  mind  cannot  arrive  at  a  right  educa 
tion  but  by  a  tedious  road  through  an  uninviting  region. 
Augustus  never  travelled  much,  except  in  pleasant  paths  ;  yet 
he  became  very  accomplished.  In  his  mother's  eyes  he  pos 
sessed  but  one  fault — he  hated  medicine. 

Sophia  was  all  perfection.  So  her  iather  had  always  de 
cided,  and  freely  expressed.  So  also  "Edward  Clevis,  who 
had  long  been  in  her  father's  employ,  and  had  attained  to  a 
distant  and  tremulous  acquaintance  with  the  daughter, 
thought.  But  Edward  sighed  in  secret,  and  said  nothing. 
She  was  a  bright,  unapproachable  star,  moving  in  regions 
of  wealth  and  fashion  which  he  could  not  hope  to  attain. 
Such  are  the  distinctions  which  wealth  makes  among  mortals, 
and  which  Edward,  spite  of  his  romance,  was  compelled  to 
feel.  He  therefore  sighed  in  secret,  and  said  nothing ;  but 
Edward  found  or  fancied  some  little  ground  of  hope,  upon 
which  to  build  airy  castles.  When  did  ever  romantic  love 
fail  to  find  ground  for  hope? 

Troublesome  fears  and  anxieties  pervaded  Mr.  Greening's 
mind.  Parents,  who  desire  peace  of  mind  and  tranquillity  in 
age,  should  not  pray  for  the  gift  of  beautiful  daughters.  A 
vision  of  a  fashionable,  dashing,  daring,  dangerous  young  man 
came  unpleasantly  across  his  parental  views  and  hopes.  He 
had  met  the  original  a  few  times ;  at  first  Avith  an  unpleasant 
impression,  which  soon  deepened  into  dislike  and  dread.  Mr. 
Mercutio  Fitz-Faun  was  the  heir  of  a  family  old,  rich,  and 
renowned.  He  was  introduced  to  Mr.  Greening's  house  by 
Augustus,  who  had  a  predilection  for  dashing  acquaintances, 


WOLFSDEN.  263 

which  the  father  had  not.  Mrs.  Greening  and  Sophia  saw 
nothing  objectionable  in  the  young  man.  The  devil,  for  his 
own  purposes,  often  gives  his  worst  imps  a  pleasant  aspect  in 
ladies'  eyes  ;  and  ladies  in  such  cases  always  persist  in  judg 
ing  with  their  own  eyes,  in  spite  of  judicious  husband  or 
father.  By  the  father's  eyes  the  devil-look  of  Fitz-Faun  was 
plainly  seen.  He  expressed  disapprobation  of  the  acquaint 
ance  to  his  wife  and  daughter.  Fitz-Faun  already  instinct 
ively  understood  it,  and  avoided  the  old  gentleman's  sight. 
He  had  experience  of  vigilant  fathers.  He  cultivated  the 
friendship  of  Augustus,  and  made  brief  calls  at  safe  hours, 
offering  delicate  attentions,  such  as  could  hardly  be  refused 
without  rudeness ;  but,  if  they  were  declined,  Mr.  Fitz-Faun 
never  was  offended.  To  Mrs.  Greening  he  was  all  defer 
ence  and  gentleness.  He  showed  regard  for  religion  and  for 
medicine ;  recommending  Pollok's  Course  of  Time  for  her 
reading,  and ,  Darby's  Carminative  for  her  complaints.  To 
Sophia  his  admiration  was  half  expressed,  by  looks  and 
words  that  venture  not  too  far,  but  yet  prepare  the  way  for 
further  venture. 

Sophia  thought  sometimes  of  his  words  and  looks,  and  how 
odd  it  would  be  if  he  should  fall  in  love  with  her,  and  make 
her  the  subject  of  a  romance  ;  and  then  she  thought  of  Fitz- 
James  and  the  Lady  of  the  Lake.  How  odd  the  coincidence 
of  names  —  Fitz-James,  Fitz-Faun  !  Tlien  she  reflected  upon 
the  sorrows  of  Werter  and  the  fair  Charlotte,  and  looked  in 
the  glass  to  see  if  her  own  fair  features  resembled  those  of 
Charlotte.  She  judged,  and  very  justly,  that  they  were  as 
beautiful ;  only  she  had  never  seen  Charlotte,  nor  even  her 
picture.  Then  she  reflected  upon  Conrad  the  Corsair,  and 
Medora,  and  Don  Juan,  with  the  fair  Haidee.  She  had  seen 


264  WOLFSDEN. 

a  print  of  Haidee,  with  which  her  own  features  compared 
favorably.  Then  she  meditated  upon  Moore's  Melodies,  and 
Willis'  Sonnets,  and  various  heroes  and  heroines  of  the  Lady's 
Magazine,  and  other  classic  creations  of  lady-like  literature, 
till  the  music-master  came  to  dispel  idle  thoughts  by  labori 
ous  lessons. 

Mr.  Mercutio  Fitz-Faun  assiduously  cultivated  the  society 
of  Augustus  Greening.  In  company  with  him,  and  sometimes 
without  him,  he  frequently  met  the  ladies  in  their  walks  and 
resorts,  in  public  places  and  at  social  parties ;  for  he  had 
boldness,  skill,  and  facilities  to  obtain  introduction  in  most 
places,  when  he  had  a  motive  to  come.  Augustus  was  uncon 
sciously  his  instrument,  and  he  had  other  instruments.  His 
advances  to  Sophia  were  cautious,  without  the  appearance  of 
caution ;  covert,  but.  with  seeming  frankness ;  artfully  con 
trived,  yet-  apparently  accidental ;  designing,  but  innocent- 
looking.  He  sometimes  seemed  absent-minded,  but  never 
forgot  his  purpose.  He  often  spoke  of  personal  matters,  in 
which  he  incidentally  betrayed  some  romantically-generous 
act  of  his  own ;  then  suddenly  recalled  to  himself  the  im 
propriety  of  egotism,  and  made  interesting  confessions, 
lamenting  his  impulsive  disposition,  and  the  difficulty  of  see 
ing  suffering  or  wrong  without  interfering  to  relieve  it ;  but 
she  is  a  friend,  and  will  excuse  his  unguardedness.  He  could 
not  avoid  confession  to  one  so  good  and  beautiful.  And  then 
he  quoted  some  pretty  sentiment.  Thus  he  gained  a  step  in 
her  confidence,  and  made  himself  the  subject  of  her  thoughts. 
Transparent  artifices  are  these ;  yet  they  serve  to  beguile 
confiding  maidens. 

Mr.  Greening  had  no  distinct  and  obvious  cause  for  anx 
iety,  and  yet  he  was  anxious.  He  knew  nothing  sufficient  to 


WOLFSDEN.  265 

justify  his  forbidding  the  acquaintance,  which,  considering 
the  circle  in  which  the  young  man  moved,  would  cause  some 
inconvenience.  He  explained  his  anxiety  to  his  wife,  and 
she  gave  him  assurances  which  did  not  assure  him. 

His  confidence  in  Alek's  personal  worth  and  future  pros 
perity  was  fully  established.  He  looked  upon  him  as  en 
dowed  with  the  very  virtues  which  he  gave  himself  credit  for 
possessing,  and  by  which  he  had  arrived  at  his  present  pros 
perity, —  integrity,  firmness,  good  judgment,  quick  discernment 
of  the  character  of  others,  energy,  perseverance  and  due  cau 
tion  in  business,  and  the  manly  bearing  which  inspires  general 
respect. 

He  felt  himself  like  a  vigorous  tree,  firmly  rooted  and 
flourishing ;  but  reflected  that  years  must  bring  decay,  and  he 
considered  the  advantage  of  having  a  thrifty  sapling  growing 
beside  him,  upon  whose  firm  trunk  his  own  might  lean,  when 
age  should  bend  it  down  with  the  heavy  weight  of  years  and 
cares.  His  natural  partiality  for  his  own  son  did  not  blind 
his  eyes,  and  he  never  thought  of  leaning  upon  Augustus. 

He  conversed  freely  with  Alek  upon  every  topic  of  busi 
ness,  and  even  upon  personal  matters,  and  gave  particular 
proofs  of  confidence  and  respect.  He  invited  him  to  his 
house  frequently,  and  requested  him  to  come  familiarly,  as 
among  intimate  friends.  Mrs.  Greening  was  gracious  and 
conversational ;  Augustus,  spirited  and  social ;  and  Sophia, 
lovely  and  condescending.  Alek  found  it  very  pleasant  to 
come,  and  was  made  to  feel  himself  always  welcome.  Mr. 
Greening's  family  never  failed  to  manifest  full  welcome  to  all 
whom  he  inclined  to  favor  ;  besides  which,  Alek  proved  him 
self  no  unpleasant  guest.  He  had  not  remitted  in  his  en 
deavors  to  learn  men,  manners,  and  the  philosophy  of  life ; 
23 


266  WOLFSDEN. 

and  he  rapidly  added  to  his  attainment  of  what  is  solid  and 
important  the  propriety  and  polish  •which  most  adorns  the 
sound  understanding. 

He  appreciated  elevation  and  refinement  of  sentiment 
as  readily  in  the  diffident  and  unpretending  as  elsewhere. 
Among  those  whom  business  led  in  his  way,  he  was  attracted 
to  Edward  Clevis,  before  mentioned,  in  whom  he  found  qual 
ities  worthy  of  regard ;  and  he  often  conversed  with  him. 
Edward  quickly  considered  him  in  the  light  of  a  judicious 
friend,  and,  being  himself  of  a  frank  and  confiding  nature,  it 
was  impossible  that  the  chief  burthen  of  his  thoughts  should 
escape  Alek's  penetration.  But  Alek  was  delicate,  and  said 
nothing ;  and,  though  unlucky  himself,  generously  wished  good 
luck  to  Edward,  whom  he  believed  to  merit  it.  It  did  not 
even  occur  to  him  that  the  beautiful  Sophia  might  be  made 
to  fill  the  place  in  his  own  heart,  so  long  occupied,  and  so 
recently  vacated,  by  one  who  had  left  it  desolate  and  aching ; 
and,  therefore,  no  feeling  of.  rivalry  interfered  with  his  sym 
pathy. 

Alek  found  his  new  privileges  pleasant  enough,  and  still 
the  more  agreeable  to  him  for  the  opportunities  of  improve 
ment  afforded  by  introduction  to  cultivated  society ;  and, 
therefore,  he  was  careful  to  be  always  accessible,  and  ready 
to  accept  such  invitations  and  intimations  of  welcome  as 
might  be  given,  so  that  he  became  the  most  frequent  com 
panion  and  protector  of  the  beautiful  Sophia.  He  considered 
this  a  trust  from  his  employer,  and  kept  the  same  vigilant 
eye  upon  his  duty  as  in  other  trusts,  and  with  no  more 
thought  of  turning  it  to  his  own  advantage.  He  had  received 
an  intimation  from  Mr.  Greening  of  his  distrust  of  Mr.  Fitz- 
Eaun,  and  therefore  honored  that  gentleman  with  a  little 


WOLFSDEN.  267 

closer  observation  than  he  gave  to  others.  It  was  not 
marked,  yet  Fitz-Fuun  suspected  it,  and  also  observed  close 
ly.  He  concluded  that  Alek,  encouraged  by  the  family,  as 
pired  to  the  beautiful  Sophia,  and  fiercely  determined  to  frus 
trate  him  and  revenge  himself.  He  was  aware  that  the 
enterprise  might  be  difficult;  but  the  more  difficult  the  more 
glorious  its  achievement,  for  of  such  achievements  he  was 
emulous,  not  only  for  private  benefit,  but  for  glorious  boasts 
among  his  compeers,  and  to  sustain  the  ancient  renown  of  the 
Fitz-Fauns. 

Mr.  Mercutio  Fitz-Faun  had  a  somewhat  narrow  range  of 
ideas  and  aspirations,  but  within  that  range  his  enterprise, 
perseverance,  and  success,  were  wonderful.  Of  the  profound 
maxims  and  established  rules  of  life  and  conduct,  founded  on 
morals  or  policy,  he  had  small  store ;  yet  there  was  one  which 
he  constantly  quoted  and  applied.  "  All  stratagems  are 
lawful  in  love,"  was  his  axiom.  By  "  love  "  he  meant  what 
ever  the  low,  base,  and  sensual,  imply  in  that  term  ;  and  by 
stratagem,  whatever  fraud,  falsehood,  treachery,  violence,  and 
villany,  might  be  effectual  to  his  purposes. 

He  fancied  that  he  ran  a  brilliant  career.  He  plumed 
himself  upon  his  genius  and  his  good  fortune.  He  affected 
to  be  styled  the  Napoleon  of  gallantry,  and  named  his  victo 
ries  Au.sterlitz,  Lutzen,  Marengo,  Borodino,  and  the  like. 
He  trusted  not  alone  to  chance  and  the  inspiration  of  the 
hour,  but  proceeded  by  system,  with  appropriate  aids,  re 
sources,  and  instruments,  in  all  emergencies. 

He  prided  himself  especially  upon  what  he  called  his  diplo 
macy.  By  diplomacy  he  had  often  made  persons  of  honorable 
intentions  the  unconscious  instruments  of  his  plots  for  the 
ruin  of  their  nearest  and  dearest  connections.  By  diplomacy 


ZOO  WOLFSDBN. 

he  managed  Augustus,  evaded  the  father,  blinded  the  mother 
and  hoped  to  baffle  and  circumvent  Alelc,  and  add  another 
victory  to  his  list  of  Lodis,  Lutzens,  and  Jenas. 

Of  the  allies  and  aids  of  this  Napoleon  of  gallantry,  Count 
Flummery  was  the  chief,  and  was  supported  by  a  regular 
gradation  of  Talleyrands,  Metternichs,  Grouchys,  Soults,  and 
subalterns,  in  the  character  of  procurers,  bullies,  bribed  coach 
men,  and  courtesans. 

By  the  arts  of  diplomacy  Fitz-Faun  decided  to  commence 
the  campaign  against  Alek,  holding  other  resources  in  reserve. 
Augustus  served  to  introduce  him,  and  he  opened  his  battery 
of  smooth  pretences  and  artifices.  He  professed  particular 
pleasure  in  gaining  the  acquaintance  of  a  friend  of  Harry 
Boynton,  for  whom  he  avowed  much  respect,  though  he  had 
seen  him  but  a  few  times.  He  made  many  remarks  meant 
to  be  agreeable,  and  offered  his  services  and  good  offices  on 
all  occasions ;  particularly  proposing  to  introduce  Alek  to 
some  of  his  own  friends,  who  he  judged  might  be  agreeable, 
and  perhaps  serviceable. 

Alek  did  not  decline  the  civilities.  He  thought  that  per 
haps  they  might  be  sincere,  or,  if  otherwise,  he  considered 
himself  competent  to  detect  and  baffle  treachery,  when  already 
put  upon  his  guard.  He  desired,  also,  to  ascertain  how  far 
Mr.  Greening's  ill  opinion  was  well  grounded  ;  and,  perhaps, 
liked  the  chance  of  testing  his  own  diplomacy.  Alek's  self- 
estimate  had  not  declined.  In  that  respect  he  was  not  much 
behind  Mr.  Mercutio  Fitz-Faun. 

Two  days  afterward,  Mr.  Fitz-Faun  called  upon  Alek  with 
a  card  of  invitation  from  Count  Flummery,  whom  he  described 
as  an  English  nobleman,  of  generous  spirit,  who  had  lately  set 
up  his  establishment  in  New  York,  temporarily,  and  in  a 


WOLFSDEN.  269 

private  way,  for  the  sake  of  familiar  acquaintance  with  the 
social  and  political  institutions  of  the  American  people. 

"By  great  good  fortune,"  said  he,  "I  was  introduced  to 
him  when  abroad ;  and  he  honors  me  with  his  friendship,  and 
gives  carte  blanche  for  my  friends.  My  introductions  have 
been  few  and  select ;  and  I  am  particularly  glad  that  I  men 
tioned  you,  for  I  think  you  will  be  pleased  with  each  other. 
The  count  can  read  men  as  other  men  read  books ;  and  he  does 
justice  to  merit,  of  whatever  kind.  The  countess  is  a  fine 
woman,  and  the  young  ladies,  her  daughter^,  have  taken  a 
fancy  for,  and  formed  an  intimate  friendship  with  my  cousins, 
the  Miss  Dryades, — Erycina,  and  her  elder  sister,  Messalina, 
—  who  will  also  be  there,  with  others  of  the  best  society.  The 
Miss  Dryades  are  superb,  spite  of  their  cousinship." 

Alek  expressed  a  proper  sense  of  the  honor,'  and  engaged 
himself  for  the  occasion  ;  and  Fitz-Faun  kindly  offered  to  call 
for  him  at  the  proper  hour. 
23* 


CHAPTEIl    XVII. 


Quips,  and  Cranks,  and  wanton  Wiles  ; 

Nods,  and  Becks,  and  wreathed  Smiles.  —  L'ALLEORO. 

IT  was  an  epoch  of  great  interest  in  Alek's  history.  He 
was  about  to  appear  a  guest  in  the  very  central  circle  of 
fashion,  where  modes  and  ceremonies  to  him  unknown  have 
the  force  of  inexorable  laws  ;  before  the  brilliant  and  polite, 
where  dulness  is  disgrace,  and  awkwardness  is  crime  ;  before 
a  count  and  countess,  who  read  men  as  men  read  books,  and 
decide  their  worth  as  a  money-changer  tells  the  value  of 
coin  ;  among  the  most  select  of  the  crowd  of  wealth  and 
fashion,  the  most  educated  and  elegant  among  men,  and 
the  most  beautiful  and  accomplished  among  women  ;  where, 
perhaps,  his  principles  may  prevent  the  graceful  compliance 
which  fashion  requires,  or  where  his  ignorance  of  ceremony 
may  expose  him  to  juster  ridicule  ;  and  where,  perhaps  (for 
his  distrust  of  Fitz-Faun  was  not  diminished),  the  purpose 
of  his  introduction  may  be  unfriendly  and  dangerous. 

Alek,  however,  accepted  the  invitation,  not  capriciously, 
but  in  accordance  with  views  of  his  own,  and  determined 
to  abide  the  result  as  bravely  and  warily  as  his  abilities 
might  permit.  He  was  not  altogether  unprepared.  He 


WOLFSDEN.  27l 

had  now  been  in  the  school  of  general  society  for  several 
months,  and  had  been  an  attentive  student.  At  Mr.  Green 
ing's  suggestion,  he  had  provided  a  proper  dress,  and  had  the 
tailor's  authority,  as  well  as  his  own  opinion,  for  his  outside 
appearance.  He  had  also  received  some  instruction  in  cere 
mony  and  deportment  from  Mons.  Legerite  (maitre  de  danse), 
who  pronounced  him  "accompli,"  "  un  honime  d'esprit,  qui 
fait  des  choses  galamment,"  "  un  homme  bien  fait  pour  le 
monde."  These  compliments  Alek,  spite  of  his  self-com 
placency,  thought  too  unqualified;  yet  he  allowed  himself  to 
be  not  altogether  a  clown  ;  he  knew  where  to  put  his  hands 
and  feet,  and  that  it  is  better  to  say  nothing  than  to  stam 
mer.  To  these  attainments  he  added  his  stock  of  mother- 
vat,  brought  from  Wolfsden,  and  improved  by  use,  —  and 
trusted  that  he  should  find  himself  competent  to  the  crisis. 

Having  dressed,  and  perfected  his  outward  appearance,  he 
thus  apostrophized  himself  in  the  glass: 

"  Now,  Alek  Arbor,  son  of  Deacon  Arbor,  of  Wolfsden, 
you  are  about  to  step  into  a  new  position.  Keep  your  wits 
awake.  Be  not  betrayed  by  negligence,  or  forgetful  ness,  or 
irresolution.  If  possible,  secure  the  good-will  and  respect  of 
others,  by  due  observance  of  what  belongs  to  them  ;  but,  at 
all  events,  preserve  your  self-respect,  by  firmness  of  principle. 
Be  not  suspicious,  but  have  perfect  presence  of  mind  to  de 
tect,  if  cause  for  suspicion  shall  arise.  Conduct  yourself  so 
that  on  your  return  you  shall  not  be  ashamed  to  look  your 
self  in  the  face.1' 

At  the  appointed  hour,  a  coach  containing  a  gentleman 
and  two  ladies  called  for  Alek.x  The  gentleman  was  Fitz- 
Faun,  and  the  ladies  were  his  Cousins  Dryades,  Miss  Erycina 
and  Miss  Messalina.  Alek  was  introduced  by  his  friend 


272  WOLFSDEN. 

Fitz-Faun,  and  graciously  received.  Their  dazzling  and  over 
powering  beauty  was  such  as  he  had  never  before  encountered. 
Well  did  they  deserve  Fitz-Faun's  eulogium,  —  they  were 
"  superb,  spite  of  their  cousinship." 

A  place  was  reserved  for  Alek  beside  the  splendid  Erycina. 
Fitz-Faun  sat  by  his  superb  cousin  Messalina,  and  the  coach 
drove  to  the  count's.  The  ride  was  a  long  one,  but  the  ladies 
were  full  of  spirits,  and  their  lively  chat  and  familiar  gayety 
made  the  way  seem  short. 

Arrived  at  the  elegant  house  of  the  count,  Fitz-Faun  and 
Messalina  preceded  Alek  and  Erycina  up  the  magnificent 
marble  entrance.  Lackeys  in  white  kid  gloves  obsequiously 
received  them ;  and  soon  Alek  was  introduced  to  a  scene  of 
splendor  and  luxury  before  inconceivable. 

Spacious  parlors,  their  sliding  doors  thrown  back,  were 
magnified  and  multiplied  by  the  reflection  of  large  mirrors, 
advantageously  arranged,  so  that  their  extent  seemed  inter 
minable.  The  lofty  ceiling  was  adorned  with  the  most  elab 
orate  ornament  in  stucco  and  gilding.  The  walls  were  bor 
dered  and  festooned  with  fanciful  tracery  in  blue  and  gold, 
and  hung  with  paintings  and  engravings  of  the  rarest  kind. 
Carpets  of  the  softest  texture  and  most  brilliant  colors  cov 
ered  the  floors.  Sofas  and  lounges  invited  luxurious  re 
pose.  Sideboards  glittering  with  vessels  of  crystal  and  silver, 
filled  with  the  choicest  fruits,  confections,  and  sparkling 
liquors,  tempted  the  palate.  A  grand  piano,  of  splendid 
workmanship,  occupied  one  end  of  a  room,  and  a  harp  of  still 
more  imposing  appearance  occupied  a  corner  at  the  other 
end  of  the  double  parlors.  The  gpace  between  and  around 
was  variously  supplied  with  marble  tables,  velvet  chairs, 


WOLFSDEN.  273 

glittering  screens,  tasselled  ottomans,  costly  vases,  many  curi 
ous  and  rare  productions  of  oriental  taste. 

The  company  was  as  various  and  splendid  as  the  furniture. 
There  were  many  beautiful  ladies,  and  all  appeared  in  the 
youth  or  the  prime  of  their  charms.  Of  the  men,  some  were 
evidently  past  their  middle  age,  yet  full  of  the  spirit  and 
versatility  of  youth.  Some  were  remarkably  young,  yet  with 
the  assurance  and  forwardness  of  premature  ripeness.  All 
appeared  on  equal  terms ;  and  there  was  somewhat  less  of 
the  polite  deference  of  youth  to  maturer  dignity,  of  manhood 
to  beauty,  and  of  all  toward  each  other,  than  Alek  expected 
in  society  so  refined  and  elevated. 

Count  Flummery,  to  whom  Alek  was  immediately  presented 
by  his  friend  Fitz-Faun,  seemed,  however,  to  fulfil  Alek's  idea 
of  the  exterior,  at  least,  of  a  perfect  gentleman.  He  was 
about  forty  years  of  age,  of  good  person  and  elegant  dress. 
His  hands  were  taper  and  slender,  as  though  his  fingers 
might  be  nimble  in  any  dextrous  art  (piano-playing,  for 
instance) ;  his  eyes  were  deep  and  penetrating,  —  so  much 
so,  that  Alek  at  first  thought  they  indicated  apprehension  or 
suspicion,  but,  upon  reflection,  concluded  that  there  must 
necessarily  be  something  peculiar  in  the  glance  of  one  who 
could  read  men  as  men  read  books. 

The  countess  appeared  young,  and  as  gay  as  her  daughters  ; 
for  Alek,  without  any  further  information  than  Fitz-Faun's 
first  description,  counted  several  of  the  youngest  of  the  ladies 
present  as  the  daughters  of  the  countess,  who,  in  their  sweet 
superabundance  of  sentiment,  had  attached  themselves  to  the 
superb  Dryades,  spite  of  their  cousinship  to  Fitz-Faun. 

The  company  was  dispersed  in  various  conversational 
groups.  Here  and  there  a  congenial  pair  sat  tete-a-tete. 


274  WOLFSDEN. 

Some  solitary  amateurs  studied  the  paintings  and  engravings 
on  the  walls,  or  turned  over  the  collections  of  a  gold  embossed 
and  clasped  portfolio.  A  few  sauntered  about,  as  if  unde 
cided,  among  the  various  attractions  ;  and  others  still,  as 
caring  little  for  any  of  thorn.  Some,  both  in  male  and  female 
attire,  might  appear  to  the  attentive  observer  as  practising 
attitudes,  and  choosing  positions  for  effect ;  and  others,  as 
trying  to  conceal  weariness  and  discontent.  And  Alek  could 
not  help  reflecting,  that,  though  he  had  never  seen  so  many 
aids  and  means  to  enjoyment,  he  had  never  been  in  a  social 
company  of  so  few  happy  faces. 

Alek  was  introduced  to  a  few  of  the  groups  about  him,  but 
their  conversation  was  confined  to  local  and  personal  matters, 
which  he  knew  nothing  of,  and  regarded  as  unimportant.  He 
therefore  returned  to  the  splendid  Erycina,  who,  besides  the 
personal  charms  which  render  even  dulness  tolerable,  had  much 
vivacity,  and  an  infinite  fund  of  personal  gossip.  Through  her 
he  was  able  to  learn  something  of  the  company  around  him, 
including  herself. 

"  See,"  said  she,  "  that  tall  fellow,  with  a  hanging  under- 
jaw,  and  lank  gray  earlocks.  His  clothes  hang  about  him 
like  drapery  about  a  skeleton.  It  is  not  the  tailor's  fault, 
—  his  clothes  are  well  cut,  but  he  is  not  well  made.  Take 
his  clothes  off,  and  he  'd  look  worse  than  now.  Nothing 
could  be  made  to  fit  him,  except  by  the  rope-maker,  who 
might  adjust  a  very  suitable  cravat  to  his  scraggy  neck.  He 
saunters  about  and  attitudinizes,  as  if  to  bring  draperied 
skeletons  into  fashion.  Strutting  and  attitudinizing,  some 
times  sober,  and  oftener  drunk,  has  been  the  only  respectable 
business  of  his  life.  He  has  been  trying  to  learn  the  trade 
of  a  swindler,  but  can't  get  the  hang  of  it,  —  the  sheriff 


WOLFSDEN.  275 

should  give  him  the  hang  of  it.  He  belongs  to  one  of  our 
first  families,  but  they  have  turned  him  off  with  a  monthly 
pension,  which  he  spends  in  debauchery,  or  something  less 
respectable,  and  sponges  his  board  out  of  credulous  landla 
dies.  But  you  need  no  further  description.  He  is  edging 
this  way  ;  he  always  edges, —  he  can't  do  otherwise,  go  which 
way  he  will,  for  every  side  is  an  edge.  He  means  to  make 
your  acquaintance  to-night,  that  he  may  borrow  a  '  V '  of 
you  to-morrow. 

"  See  that  red-faced,  snub-nosed,  over-dressed,  and  over 
fed  gentleman.  He  began  life  a  butcher,  and  got  to  be  a 
pork  merchant.  He  aspires  still  higher,  and  sets  up  for  a 
debauchee.  lie  has  a  wife  and  family  at  home,  who  are 
probably  learning  the  same  lessons.  He  spends  fifty  dollars 
a  night,  and  makes  a  poor  speculation  of  it.  He  does  n't 
understand  the  business.  He  had  better  stick  to  his  pork. 

"  See  that  heavy-browed,  dark-whiskered  Hercules  of  a 
fellow,  with  so  many  gold  chains  and  jewels,  who  sits  shuf 
fling  a  pack  of  cards,  to  attract  a  party  at  whist  or  loo.  He 
means  to  pluck  a  pigeon  or  two  to-night ;  there  are  several 
here,  and  he  will  do  it.  He  nevej-  fails.  The  count,  —  but 
I  must  n't  blab ;  it 's  a  secret ;  and,  besides,  nobody  can  prove 
it;  so  promise  to  say  nothing  about  it,  'pon  honor." 

Alek  gave  her  the  required  assurance  as  gravely  as  if  he 
understood  the  whole  matter,  and  she  went  on  : 

"  He  is  always  here,  and  is  thick  with  the  count.  He  is 
no  doubt  a  great  gentleman  in  his  way.  He  understands  all 
the  tricks  of  the  cards,  and  all  other  games.  He  is  a  great 
character,  and  knows  how  to  have  things  his  own  way.  He 
has  been  in  the  ring,  and  they  say  tapped  Yankee  Sullivan's 
claret.  How  queer  they  talk.  His  name  is  Sir  Mark  liar- 


27O  WOLFSDEN. 

sheer,  —  so  they  call  him.  I  will  get  you  his  card  from  the 
case.  You  see  how  it  is  spelt,  '  Sir  Marc  Barchier,  K.  B.' 
I  don't  know,"  continued  Erycina,  "  why  they  call  him  Sir. 
I  am  sure  nobody  would  take  him  for  a  madam.  But  he  is 
an  Englishman,  and  the  '  Sir '  is  some  sort  of  a  title ;  —  and 
then  the  K.  13.,  —  what  does  that  mean?  If  it  were  S.  B., 
I  should  suppose  he  meant  to  announce  his  claim  to  be  Some- 
Body  ;  but  K.  B.  comes  nearer  to  Know-Body,  and  I  dare 
say  he  is  ignorant  enough  to  spell  nobody  with  a  K." 

Alek  examined  the  card.  He  had  been  for  some  time 
scrutinizing  this  same  Sir  Marc.  A  dim  impression  of  some 
thing  familiar  in  his  features  fixed  his  attention  ;  but  he 
could  not  trace  it  to  a  distinct  recollection.  Neither  Eryci- 
na's  account,  nor  the  name  and  title,  furnished  any  clue  at 
the  moment;  and  he  noted  the  features  and' expression,  for 
after  study. 

The  promiscuous  assembly,  moved  by  the  impulse  of  vari 
ous  motives,  affinities,  and  tastes,  formed  various  circles  of 
amusement.  Sir  Marc  gathered  at  a  table  a  company  mixed 
according  to  his  views,  —  the  calculating  and  the  reckless,  the 
designing  and  the  delude^.  A  group  of  the  more  vivacious 
and  conversational  amused  themselves  with  small-talk,  lively 
repartee,  sallies  of  wit,  and  laughter.  Others  sentimentalized, 
and  talked  poetry,  literature,  and  scandal.  The  count  told  a 
story  of  himself,  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  Charles  Fox ;  and 
the  countess  related  her  parting  interview  with  Queen  Char 
lotte  and  the  Duchess  of  Kent,  and  exhibited  a  bracelet  given 
her  by  the  queen  for  a  keepsake.  It  was  of  unique  work 
manship,  and  studded  with  the  richest  gems.  Its  central 
lustre  is  a  star,  of  which  the  disc  is  a  diamond  of  great  value ; 


WOLFSDEN.  277 

and  the  five  points  are  composed  each  of  a  different  gem,  and 
pointed  with  diamonds. 

Alek,  \vho,  with  the  splendid  Erycina  hanging  upon  his 
arm,  had  drawn  near  to  hear  the  count's  story,  listened  with 
peculiar  interest  to  that  of  the  countess,  especially  to  the 
account  and  description  of  the  jewel,  and  he  endeavored  to 
get  as  near  a  view  of  it  as  possible,  without  attracting  atten 
tion.  The  recollection  of  Mrs.  Simperkins'  story,  and  her 
description  of  her  lost  "  hunique,"  struck  him  as  a  strange 
coincidence.  He  impressed  upon  his  memory  the  features  of 
the  counfc,  the  countess,  and  the  jewel,  and  reserved  this  sub 
ject  also  for  after  study. 

Music  was  proposed.  A  lady  took  her  place  at  the  grand 
piano,  and  commenced  a  lively  waltz.  Quickly  a  dozen  cou 
ples  were  whirling,  in  rapid  yet  harmonious  motion,  through 
the  spacious  rooms.  The  splendid  Erycina  passed  her  lovely 
arm,  as  if  unconsciously,  about  the  waist  of  Alek,  and  tapped 
.  the  time  with  her  taper  foot.  Alek,  already  excited  by  the 
soul-stirring  music,  could  not  resist  the  mute  invitation.  He 
joined  hands,  and  clasped  the  lovely  form,  and  whirled  with 
his  beautiful  partner  in  the  rounds  of  the  glittering  group. 
His  pulse  beat  time  with  the  enchanting  music.  He  breathed 
an  atmosphere  of  luxury  and  sweet  abandonment.  His  eyes 
were  dazzled ;  his  soul  was  filled  with  the  spendor  of  soft, 
inviting  beauty.  His  arm  was  about  a  form  moulded  in 
graceful  loveliness,  —  the  perfection  of  nature  and  art.  His 
hand  clasped  a  hand  through  whose  delicate  fingers  the  elec 
tric  fire  thrilled  along  his  nerves.  Emotions  uncontrollable 
fired  his  soul.  He  pressed  closer  the  lovely  and  yielding  form 
at  his  side,  and  bounded  in  maddening  ecstasy  through  the 
voluptuous  dance. 

24 


278  WOLFSDEN. 

Soon  the  lively  group  exhausted  their  superabundant  spirit, 
and  sunk  on  the  soft  sofas,  or  retired  for  refreshment.  The 
splendid  Erycina  led  her  partner  to  a  corner  retired  and  un- 
observable,  and  seated  herself  by  his  side.  A  gorgeous  Indian 
screen  hid  them  from  view.  It  seemed  a  place  for  whisper 
ing  lovers  made.  Love's  mighty  influence  ruled  the  hour. 
Yet  Alek  resisted  the  mighty  impulse,  though  with  wavering 
resolution.  His  firm  self-control  faltered  with  each  new  onset. 

Though  hidden  from  view,  an  officious  waiter  found  them 
out,  and  proffered  cake  and  wine  in  silver  baskets  and  crystal 
cups ;  but  Alek  refused  all  refreshment,  except  iced  water. 
His  wisdom  had  not  wholly  deserted  him.  His  blood  needed 
the  ice,  not  the  wine. 

The  dance  ceased,  and  songs  were  solicited.  The  voluptu 
ous  melodies  of  Moore  weue  breathed  from  enchanting  lips, 
accompanied  by  piano  and  harp.  Sweet  sensations  of  mingled 
sentiment  and  passion  overwhelmed  the  soul.  Love's  mighty 
influence  ruled  the  hour. 

At  length  the  magnificent  Messalina  was  urged,  and  took 
her  place  at  the  harp.  Her  skill  surpassed  others  ;  and  her 
song  was  such  as  the  occasion  and  the  ruling  spirit  of  the  hour 
demanded.  With  attentive  ear  all  drank  the  melody,  and  ap 
plauded  the  sentiment. 

MESSALINA'S  SONG. 

'T  is  the  hour  of  gentle  feeling, 

Tender  thoughts  and  speaking  sighs  ; 
All  the  soul  of  love  revealing, 

Panting  hearts  and  sparkling  eyes. 
Not  the  gairish  day's  effulgence 

Suits  the  reign  of  soft  delight ; 
Warmest  wishes  wait  indulgence 

Till  the  genial  shades  of  night. 


WOLFSDEN.  279 

Let  the  hero  and  the  miser 

Toil  by  day  for  gold  or  fame  ; 
We,  all  happier  and  wiser, 

AVait  the  night's  propitious  reign. 
Ilail  the  hour  with  joy  o'erflowing, 

Social  mirth  and  soft  delight ; 
Love-enkindling,  bliss-bestowing, 

Secret-keeping,  favoring  night  ! 

Alek  sits  softly  on  the  luxurious  sofa,  and  the  splendid 
Erycina  sits  closely  by  his  side.  An  hour's  acquaintance  has 
brought  them  intimately  near.  Mutual  attractions  draw  them 
closer,  with  resistless  force.  Tender  sympathies  unite  them 
in  sweet  embrace.  She  reclines  her  lovely  form  upon  his 
beating  breast.  Her  bright  blue  eyes  look  tenderly  in  his, 
and  then  turn  timidly  away.  He  sighs  in  a  transport  of 
overpowering  emotion.  She  lays  her  delicate  hand  in  his 
open  palm.  His  closing  hand  clasps  hers  with  expressive 
tenderness.  She  turns  upwards  her  blushing  face  with  fond 
consenting  look.  He  presses  her  yielding  form  to  his  breast, 
and  devours  her  lips  with  burning  kisses.  Love's  mighty 
influence  rules  the  hour. 

Is  it  love  ?  0,  power  of  supernal  source  !  celestial  bond 
of  virtuous  union  !  everlasting  chain,  let  down  from  the 
throne  of  heaven,  and  embracing  in  its  links  the  children  and 
heirs  of  holy  life  !  Eternal  power  !  forgive  the  profanation 
of  thy  sacred  name.  Teach  us,  that  we  may  not  disguise 
the  cup  of  hell  with  the  perfume  of  heaven. 

Away,  Alek,  away  !  The  soul-debasing  fire  of  sensualism 
rages  in  your  veins.  The  siren  charmer  drags  you  beneath 
the  waves  of  perdition.  The  angel  fellow-voyagers  are  leav 
ing  your  heart,  and  bearing  away  contentment,  peace,  and 
hope,  llemorse,  degrading  self-contempt,  and  base  reniem- 


280  WOLFSDEN. 

brances,  hasten  to  take  their  place,  and  be  your  future  com 
panions. 

0,  self-degrading  soul !  being  of  promised  immortality, 
turning  downward  in  thy  course  !  0,  mortal  with  heavenly 
gifts,  betraying  thy  trust !  heir  of  blessed  life,  forfeiting  thy 
crown  !  Awake  !  resist !  flee  ! 

Thus  shouted  the  angel  of  rescue  to  the  yet  unpolluted 
heart,  yielding  —  blindly,  madly,  but  not  wilfully  yielding  to 
overpowering  temptation.  The  warning  voice  thrilled  in  the 
inmost  sanctuary  of  the  troubled  soul.  The  startled  victim 
awoke  in  the  moment  of  his  extremest  danger.  He  glanced 
at  an  opposite  mirror,  and  saw  himself  bound  in  an  ignoble 
snare.  He  remembered  the  vision,  the  danger,  and  the  es 
cape,  when  he  slept  by  the  rivulet,  beneath  the  overhanging 
beech,  on  the  day  of  his  departure.  In  strong  imagination, 
he  almost  saw  his  mother  again,  with  terrified  look,  pointing 
at  the  fearful  form  of  death,  standing  with  upraised  dart  in 
act  to  strike.  The  strong  reilction  of  his  mother's  remem 
brance,  of  the  blessed  teachings  of  his  youth,  of  the  moral 
training  of  his  life,  of  the  pure  affections  of  home,  of  high 
resolves  and  holy  aspirations,  drove  back  the  demon  of  sen 
sual  temptation.  Not  daring  to  trust  himself  with  further 
delay,  he  hastened  to  the  presence  of  the  count,  and  explained 
that  imperative  necessity  required  his  immediate  departure. 
The  count  looked  inquiringly,  and,  as  Alek  thought,  hesitat 
ingly  and  suspiciously  ;  but  Alek  paused  not  for  further 
ceremony.  He  passed  to  the  outer  door.  The  servant  in 
attendance  was  slow  in  opening  it;  but  he  thrust  him  aside, 
turned  the  bolts,  and  in  a  moment  was  in  the  street. 

He  hastened  along  the  deserted  and  silent  pavement,  and 
did  not  pause  till  he  had  reached  his  solitary  room.  From 


W  0  L  F  S  D  JE  N  .  281 

his  open  window  he  looked  forth  upon  the  gloomy  expanse. 
How  gloomy,  contrasted  with  the  bright  scenes  so  lately  left, 
whose  splendor  still  filled  and  dazzled  his  brain  !  Obscuring 
clouds  covered  the  sky,  but  they  were  driven  by  a  viewless 
force,  and  soon  broke  and  fled  into  the  depths  of  night.  The 
fair  moon  and  silvery  stars  shone  forth  with  accustomed 
brightness.  The  cool  air  fanned  his  flushed  and  fevered 
brow.  The  sublime  majesty  of  the  universe,  whose  silence  is 
eloquent  beyond  speech,  inspired  and  elevated  his  soul.  He 
felt  that  he  was  not  alone.  HE  who  has  filled  the  material 
world  with  life  has  not  left  the  brighter  and  purer  regions 
of  space  a  void.  Intelligences,  far  higher  and  nobler  than 
those  which  grovel  on  earth,  people  all  the  ethereal  regions 
with  myriad  angel  forms.  They  surround  us.  They  under 
stand  us.  They  see  our  inferiority,  and  yet  they  do  not  des 
pise  us ;  they  know  our  baseness,  yet  they  do  not  scorn  us, 
for  these  emotions  dwell  not  in  angelic  minds,  who  have 
cast  off  their  lower  nature,  and  expanded  into  perfect  being. 
They  see  us  on  a  lower  step  of  the  ladder  of  progression, 
where  they  once  stood,  and  whence  we,  like  them,  shall  rise 
to  better  life. 

Thus  mused  Alek,  and  sought  to  soothe  his  self-accusing 
spirit.  He  was  troubled,  abashed,  humbled.  His  self-confi 
dence  was  abated  ;  he  had  not  stood  firmly.  His  self-boast 
ing  was  not  justified ;  though  he  had  not  fallen,  he  had  stum 
bled  ;  for,  though  a  timely  flight  from  temptation  is  victory, 
yet  his  flight  had  been  delayed  too  long  —  almost  fatally. 
His  victory  was  but  an  escape.  He  had  partially  yielded, 
and  thus  had  forfeited  the  honors  of  triumph. 

Upon  further  reflection,  he  doubted  if  he  had  not  been  the 
dupe  of  conspiracy.  The  questionable  character  of  Fitz- 
24* 


282  WOLFSDEN. 

Faun,  the  worse  than  questionable  character  of  others  of  the 
gay  company,  as  described  by  the  splendid  Erycina,  and  even 
her  own  too  facile  charms,  though  in  keeping  with  the  senti 
ment  and  spirit  of  the  assembly,  all  indicated  the  possibility 
that  the  society  to  which  he  had  been  so  ostentatiously  intro 
duced  belonged  to  a  lower  order  than  its  pretensions  claimed. 
His  suspicions,  once  started,  ranged  through  all  the  labyrinths 
of  possibility,  wherever  circumstances  threw  light.  He  even 
conceived  that  the  count  and  his  friends  might  all  be  impos 
tors, —  perhaps  a  gang  of  swindlers,  prostitutes,  and  dupes. 
At  the  head  of  the  first  order,  in  this  imaginary  classification, 
he  placed  his  friend  Fitz-Faun  ;  and  at  the  foot  of  the  latter 
class,  himself.  With  sarcastic  bitterness,  he  looked  in  the 
glass,  to  learn  the  lineaments  which  characterize  a  dupe.  He 
saw  the  lines  of  folly  very  plain,  and  wondered  that  he  had 
not  marked  them  before.  No  wonder  that  Fitz-Faun  read 
him  at  a  glance,  and  set  him  down  as  a  fit  subject  for  cheap 
experiment.  He  stared  himself  in  the  face,  to  see  how  a 
fool  stares.  He  assumed  an  air  of  sagacity,  to  see  how  the 
grimace  of  wisdom  sits  on  the  face  of  folly.  He  looked  com 
placently,  to  see  how  a  foolish  face  looks  when  taking  the 
bait  of  flattery.  Having  completed  his  self-examination,  he 
thus  again  apostrophized  himself: 

"  And  so  you,  Alek,  idiot  son  of  Deacon  Arbor,  of  Wolfs- 
den,  are  the  nice  young  man  who  judged  yourself  capable  of 
detecting  treachery,  and  protecting  yourself!  You  are  the 
sagacious  genius,  who  was  to  behave  so  warily  and  circum 
spectly  as  not  to  be  ashamed  to  look  yourself  in  the  face ! 
How  do  you  look  now  ?  Could  you  look  your  dog  Lion  in 
the  face,  if  he  were  here  ?  Do  you  think  you  could  find  youi 
way  back  to  Wolfsden,  and  re-learn  the  knack  of  raising  tur 


WOLF3DEN.  25?5 

nips,  and  pumpkins,  and  calves  1  Perhaps  you  might  in  time 
get  cunning  enough  to  palm  off  your  own  head  for  a  turnip 
or  pumpkin,  or  yourself  for  a  calf,  upon  some  customer  about 
as  wise  as  yourself." 

Having  thus  vented  his  self-reproach,  he  seated  himself  by 
the  window,  and  again  reviewed  the  affair.  He  was  more  and 
more  convinced  of  the  imposture  of  the  pretended  count  and 
his  high  society.  A  hundred  recollected  circumstances  con 
firmed  his  suspicion. 

The  dim  though  fixed  impression  of  having  before  seen  the 
pompous  personage  styled  Sir  Marc  puzzled  him.  He  almost 
fancied  it  must  have  been  in  some  previous  state  of  existence 
that  he  knew  him.  He  explored  his  memory  for  some  clue, 
and  recalled  the  expression  of  his  features,  to  compare  them 
with  all  whom  he  had  seen  abroad ;  for  it  did  not  occur  to 
him  that  such  a  magnificent  "swell"  could  ever  have  been 
seen  in  Wolfsden.  At  length  he  recurred  to  the  remem 
brances  of  childhood,  and  soon  hit  upon  a  strange  coincidence 
of  form,  features,  expression,  and  even  name.  Sir  Marc  cer 
tainly  belonged  to  the  breed  of  Bang,  the  blacksmith.  Is  it 
possible  that  he  should  be  no  other  than  the  reprobate  Mark 
Barker,  who  absconded  fifteen  years  ago,  after  robbing  widow 
Bowler's  turkey-pen  ?  Alek  remembered  the  looks  of  the  boy, 
but  he  identified  the  man  chiefly  by  the  resemblance  to  Bang. 
He  felt  strongly  persuaded  of  the  truth  of  his  conjecture,  and 
determined  to  verify  it. 

The  aftair  of  the  remarkable  and  valuable  jewel  displayed 
by  the  countess  as  the  gift  of  a  queen,  and  its  exact  resem 
blance  to  that  described  by  Mrs.  Simperkins  as  stolen  from 
her  by  Count  Flipperton  and  his  lady,  employed  his  reflee 
tions.  Wonderful,  if  the  jewels  should  prove  to  be  identical 


284  WOLFSDEN. 

and  Count  Flummery  the  very  Count  Flipperton !  Here  was 
mutter  to  be  explored,  a  riddle  to  be  solved.  Alek  debated 
whether  his  own  abilities  were  equal  to  the  occasion.  He  had 
just  now  berated  himself  as  a  dupe  and  a  fool,  by  no  means 
the  fit  agent  to  explore  mysteries  and  solve  riddles ;  but  per 
haps  his  self-judgment  might  be  revised,  now  that  his  self- 
indignation  had  subsided.  Upon  a  calm  review  of  facts,  he 
gave  himself  credit  for  having  acted  with  some  little  common 
sense.  He  had  not  been  entirely  dupjed.  He  had  escaped 
the  snare  at  the  last  moment,  even  when  escape  was  most 
difficult.  It  was  his  first  venture  into  the  enchanted  den ;  and 
he  had  baffled  the  enchanter,  and  had  also  gained  the  experi 
ence  which  would  make  him  wiser  upon  a  like  occasion.  He 
had  now  more  of  the  sagacity  of  self-distrust,  and,  therefore, 
of  self-watchfulness.  He  now  knew  something  of  the  smooth 
tactics  of  the  enemy,  and  the  necessity  of  instant  and  con 
stant  vigilance. 

Upon  the  whole,  he  determined  to  give  himself  further  trial. 
This  might  have  been  but  the  preliminary  skirmish  to  a  com 
ing  campaign,  which  should  test  his  generalship.  His  self- 
confidence,  so  lately  humbled,  again  inspired  him,  and  he 
summoned  his  energies  for  the  strife. 

He  impressed  upon  his  mind  that  of  all  perils  the  most 
dangerous  is  self-betrayal.  So  long  as  he  should  be  vigi 
lantly  true  to  himself,  he  could  not  suffer  serious  injury.  A 
divine  power  aids  and  guards  those  who  faithfully  endeavor 
tc  pursue  the  path  of  duty.  He  recalled  the  timely  warning 
of  the  dream  which  saved  his  life  when  he  slept  under  the 
beechen  tree  by  the  rivulet,  and  the  mysterious  impression 
which  so  lately  startled  him  from  the  more  dangerous  trance 
of  voluptuous  temptation.  His  relation  to  the  unseen  power 


WOLFSDEN.  285 

so  repeatedly  manifested  for  his  preservation,  filled  him  with 
wonder  and  awe,  and  he  bowed  his  head  and  his  spirit  in 
grateful  adoration  and  fervent  prayer.  His  soul  was  purified 
and  strengthened  for  duty  and  for  danger  ;  and  he  felt  reen- 
listed  for  the  battle  of  life. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 


THE  moment  Alek  left  the  count,  after  taking  so  abrupt  a 
leave,  that  high  personage  immediately  found  Fitz-Faun,  and 
told  him  of  the  flight,  as  he  termed  it ;  and  such  was  Fitz- 
Faun's  patronizing  zeal,  that  he  instantly  rushed  to  the  door 
to  intercept  his  friend's  departure,  but,  finding  himself  too 
late,  in  consequence  of  Alek's  impetuosity  in  thrusting  aside 
the  dilatory  porter  and  opening  the  door  for  himself,  he  has 
tened  back  to  a  private  room,  and,  sending  for  the  noble  count 
and  the  splendid  Erycina,  demanded  of  them  an  account  of 
his  friend,  and  the  reason  of  his  flight.  The  noble  count  pro 
tested  that  he  had  acted  in  every  point  exactly  according  to 
directions ;  and  the  splendid  Erycina  declared  that  she  had 
not  been  wanting  in  politeness,  and  could  give  no  reason  for 
his  abrupt  departure.  "  He  started,"  she  said,  "  not  like  a 
person  angry,  but  suddenly  frightened,  as  though  he  saw  a 
ghost."  She  feared  he  was  insane,  or  eccentric,  or  some 
thing  of  the  kind;  which  she  protested  was  a  pity,  for  he  was 
certainly  a  most  interesting  character,  and  quite  an  original. 

Fitz-Faun  was  disconcerted,  and  hesitated  not  to  let  his 
anger  manifest  itself  in  expressions  which,  considering  the 
elevated  society  present,  were,  to  say  the  least,  anything  but 
gracious.  The  count,  with  remarkable  humility,  repeated  his 


WOLFSDEN.  287 

excuses,  and  deprecated  the  anger  of  his  guest,  while  Erjcina 
eat  mute.  Perhaps  she  was  terrified  at  his  reproaches.  Per 
haps  she  was  indignant.  Perhaps  her  thoughts  were  turned 
in  another  direction,  and  cannot  now  be  fathomed.  Fitz- 
Faun  intimated  to  her  that  her  presence  might  be  spared. 
As  she  retired,  Sir  Marc  was  sent  for,  to  whom  Fitz-Faun 
announced  that  the  bird  had  flown,  for  so  he  facetiously  com 
municated  the  news  of  his  friend's  abrupt  departure. 

"  How  's  that  ?  "  said  Sir  Marc.  When  the  circumstances 
of  the  event  were  told,  the  valiant  knight,  —  for  such,  we 
presume  from  his  card  of  address,  is  his  proper  title,  —  the 
valiant  K.  B.  took  a  knightly  attitude,  and  stood  erect  just 
two  minutes.  He  looked  considerate  and  contemplative  for 
a  minute  and  a  quarter.  lie  then  looked  sagacious  and  self- 
possessed  for  half  a  minute.  For  the  remaining  fifteen 
seconds  he  looked  determined  and  unrelenting,  and  then  took 
a  seat. 

"  This  is  what  I  call  a  clumsy  piece  of  business,"  said  the 
K.  B. 

"  The  question  is  not  what  to  call  it,  but  how  to  remedy 
it,"  said  Fitz-Fuun. 

"  Do  you  give  him  up  on  this  tack  ?  "  said  the  K.  13. 

"  I  rather  think  he  suspects  this  game,"  replied  Fitz- 
Faun. 

"  Is  he  worth  your  while  to  turn  over  to  me  ?  "  inquired 
the  K.  B. 

"  I  'd  give  a  cool  five  hundred,  to  fix  him,"  said  Fitz- 
Faun. 

The  K.  B.  walked  softly  to  the  door,  which  he  suddenly 
opened  and  looked  about,  and  then,  as  if  reassured,  returned 
to  his  seat.  (A  gliding  apparition  without  had  suddenly 


288  WOLFSDEN. 

disappeared  as  the  door-handle  turned,  but  now  resumed  its 
position  at  the  key-hole.) 

"  I  think,"  said  the  K.  B.,  after  a  moment's  consideration, 
"  I  'm  your  man  for  that  craft ;  that  is,  if  crippling  is  all 
you  are  after.  If  you  go  in  for  scuttling,  that 's  another 
affair." 

"  What  I  want  of  that  craft,"  said  Fitz-Faun,  adopting  the 
knight's  nautical  phrase,  "  is  to  get  it  out  of  my  way.  I  want 
a  clear  coast  just  at  present.  I  don't  care  whether  it 's  for  a 
few  weeks,  or  a  few  months,  or  forever.  I  don't  want  a  ves 
sel  of  his  class  convoying  sails  that  I  have  a  mind  to  over 
haul.  I  don't  owe  the  fellow  a  grudge,  —  he  's  acting  under 
orders,  and  also  keeps  an  eye  to  windward  for  his  own  sake. 
I  should  prefer  to  out-manoeuvre  him,  or  decoy  him  on  this 
Circean  quicksand,  to  founder  of  his  own  accord.  But,  if  he 
won't  be  diplomatized,  he  must  be  driven.  I  '11  see  him  and 
sound  him  once  more,  and,  if  I  find  him  incorrigible,  I  '11  turn 
him  over  to  you.  If  finesse  fails,  force  must  do,  and  we  '11 
'  conquer  a  peace.' "  With  these  words,  this  Napoleon  of 
gallantry  broke  up  the  council. 

Pursuant  to  his  plan,  Fitz-Faun,  the  next  day,  found  Alek 
and  sounded  him.  Alek  was  prepared  for  the  process.  He 
had  all  the  advantage  over  Fitz-Faun  which  plain,  uncom 
promising  integrity  ever  has  over  dissimulation.  Alek  was 
not  deceived  by  Fitz-Faun ;  for  falsehood  when  once  sus 
pected  loses  its  power  to  deceive.  But  Fitz-Faun  was  puz 
zled  with  Alek  ;  for  nothing  is  so  impossible  to  be  compre 
hended  by  cunning  knavery,  as  the  plain  maxims  and  motives 
of  common  sense  and  honesty. 

"  You  took  French  leave,  last  evening,"  said  Fitz-Faun. 

"  Not  exactly,"  replied  Alek.    "  I  paid  my  parting  respects 


WOLFSDEN.  289 

to  the  count,  and  requested  him  to  excuse  me  to  his  friends, 
which  is  all,  I  believe,  that  etiquette  requires." 

"  But  why  did  you  coine  away  so  abruptly  ?  "  said  Fitz- 
Faun. 

"  My  duties  require  that  I  should  keep  early  hours,"  said 
Alek  ;  "  and  I  think  it  easier  to  practise  self-denial  by  begin 
ning  with  the  first  temptation,  than  after  having  formed  a, 
habit  of  indulgence." 

"  Speaking  of  temptation,"  said  Fitz-Faun,  "  I  suppose  you 
refer  to  my  fair  cousin  Erycina.  I  knew  you  would  be  smit 
ten  with  her.  Is  n't  she  splendid?  " 

"She  is  splendid,"  replied  Alek,  "and  fascinating.  But 
I  would  not  be  understood  as  referring  to  a  lady  when  speak 
ing  of  temptation,  which  would  hardly  be  compatible  with 
proper  delicacy  and  respect.  I  referred  to  the  temptation  of 
late  hours,  for  the  sake  of  any  agreeable  company." 

"  Then  you  confess  she  was  agreeable  company,  and  some 
what  tempting  ?  I  thought  as  much  from  your  intimacy. 
Upon  the  whole,  I  think  you  went  about  far  enough,  upon 
first  acquaintance.  I  presume  you  will  call  this  evening  to 
inquire  her  health,  as  you  are  an  observer  of  etiquette.  I 
have  brought  you  her  card  —  No.  1G  Cytheria-strcct.  But, 
by  the  way,  don't  encumber  yourself  with  too  strict  notions 
of  '  proper  delicacy  and  respect,'  as  you  term  it.  That  is  n't 
etiquette  in  New  York, — nor  anywhere  else,  I  suspect,  where 
the  ladies  fashion  the  laws  of  society.  The  only  way  to  win 
the  ladies'  regard  is  at  first  to  go  so  far  with  them  as  to  offend 
them,  —  or  so  far  that  they  ought  to  be  offended, —  and  the 
next  time  to  go  further  still.  That 's  my  rule,  and  it  never 
fails ! " 

25 


290  WOLFSDEN. 

"  Then  I  may  presume  that  you  are  quite  successful  in 
winning  the  respect  of  the  ladies,"  said  Alek. 

Fitz-Faun  started.  lie  thought  he  perceived  the  slightest 
tone  of  contempt  in  the  reply,  and  the  slightest  shade  of  em 
phasis  on  the  word  ladies,  as  though  he  had  no  title  to  the 
respect  of  men.  He  was  already  somewhat  disconcerted  with 
the  easy  indifference,  and,  as  he  sometimes  fancied,  the  air  of 
superiority,  which  Alek  maintained.  But  his  scheme  required 
affability  and  conciliation,  and  he  therefore  smothered  his 
resentment ;  and,  being  resolved  to  press  the  conversation  to 
some  development,  he  replied  that  he  made  no  boasts  of  his 
own  successes,  and  no  interference  with  the  pursuits  of  others. 
Though,"  continued  he,  "  I  half  envy  the  favor  you  seem 
to  have  gained  with  our  fair  friend  Erycina.  I  rallied  her 
upon  your  exclusive  attentions,  and  could  see  that  she  was 
pleased.  I  ought  not  to  betray  her  secret,  but  I  know  she 
likes  you.  It  is  n't  her  way  generally,  for  she  is  thought  to 
be  hard  to  please ;  so  you  should  value  your  victory  the  more 
highly." 

"  Weil,"  said  Alek,  "  I  will  be  careful  to  preserve  her 
regard,  by  doing  nothing  to  offend  her,  and  nothing  that 
ought  to  offend  her,  notwithstanding  your  infallible  rule ; 
for  I  mean  to  deserve  her  respect,  and,  if  I  cannot  retain  it 
in  that  way,  I  shall  at  least  preserve  my  own." 

"  I  see  you  mean  to  keep  your  own  counsel,"  persisted 
Fitz-Faun  ;  "  yet  I  suspect  you  understand  the  epicurean 
philosophy  of  enjoying  life  while  it  lasts,  as  well  as  myself; 
for  I  am  frank  to  avow  that  as  my  philosophy,  and  have  no 
doubt  that  cousin  Erycina  will  find  it  to  be  yours.  What  is 
life  without  love,  as  the  song  says  ?  " 

"Life  without  love,"  replied  Alek,  "would  be  but  an  abject 


WOLFSDEN.  291 

affair ;  but  what  you  term  love  would  debase  it  still  lower. 
Your  mistaking  such  a  passion  for  love  is  even  a  greater 
error  than  that  of  supposing  me  capable  of  trifling  with  the 
affections  of  a  virtuous  woman,  or  seeking  the  society  of  a 
wanton  one.  But  you  have  made  one  correct  supposition,  — 
for  I  do  mean  to  enjoy  life  while  it  lasts,  though  not  accord 
ing  to  your  views." 

Fitz-Faun,  still  more  disconcerted  and  embarrassed  by  the 
direct  and  earnest  manner  of  Alek,  wished  to  continue  the 
conversation  only  till  he  might  effect  a  retreat ;  and  he  asked, 
with  a  bantering  tone,  if  Alek  would  favor  him  with  his  views 
of  enjoying  life,  and  also  inform  him  where  he  got  such  a 
stock  of  fine  sentiments. 

"  My  sentiments,"  said  Alek,  "  I  learned  of  my  mother, 
from  whom  I  also  learned  not  to  despise,  but  only  to  pity, 
those  who  are  incapable  of  appreciating  them.  My  views  of 
enjoying  life  I  am  happy  to  explain,  for  I  acquired  them 
from  the  same  source,  and  my  first  lesson  was  received  very 
early.  I  was  about  three  years  old,  and  dressed  in  my  first 
frock  and  trousers,  when  I  strayed  into  the  field  a  little  way 
from  the  house,  and  found  a  small  tortoise.  I  raised  my 
stick  to  strike  it,  when  something  within  me  seemed  to  say 
No !  Perhaps  it  was  the  echo  of  something  that  my  mother 
had  inculcated  in  my  infant  ear.  I  held  the  stick  still  up 
lifted  until  the  animal  had  crawled  away  out  of  sight,  and 
then  went  into  the  house  and  asked  my  mother  what  it  was 
that  said  no,  when  I  wanted  to  strike  the  tortoise.  She  took 
me  in  her  arms,  and  taught  me  that  it  was  something  within 
me,  which  people  call  conscience,  and  which  the  Bible  calls 
the  yood  spirit,  or  the  still  small  voice  ;  and  she  told  me  that 
if  I  would  always  listen  to  that  voice,  it  would  always  teach 


292  WOLFSDEN. 

me,  and  keep  me  from  doing  wrong,  and  would  guide  me  in 
the  way  of  happiness.  From  that  time,  her  precepts  have 
always  inculcated  the  love  of  what  is  right,  and  instilled  the 
true  principle,  that  the  highest  happiness  of  which  we  are 
capable  depends  upon  the  culture  of  the  moral  powers.  To 
dwarf  and  corrupt  those  by  sensual  indulgence,  is  to  abuse 
and  destroy  all  the  sources  of  true  enjoyment  which  make  life 
worth  having.  My  observations  and  reflections,  since  I  have 
become  capable  of  observing  and  reflecting  for  myself,  confirm 
the  incalculable  value  of  this  truth  ;  so  that  I  look  with  the 
utmost  pity  upon  those  who  are  incapable  of  understanding 
it,  however  they  may  be  favored  by  fortune  in  every  other 
respect." 

Alek  looked  firmly  but  mildly  upon  Fitz-Faun  while  speak 
ing,  and  that  epicurean  philosopher  fancied  that  he  saw  a 
gleam  of  pity  in  his  look,  for  which  he  was  not  particularly 
grateful.  He  affected  to  yawn,  and  drawlingly  replied, 

"  Please  give  my  respects  to  your  good  mother,  and  also 
to  Miss  Erycina,  to  whom  I  suspect,  in  spite  of  all  your  fine 
sentiments,  you  will  pay  your  first  visit." 

As  Fitz-Faun  departed,  he  muttered,  "  The  fellow  is  incor 
rigible  ;  I  shall  hand  him  over  to  Sir  Marc,  and  I  hope  he  '11 
scuttle  him,  as  he  says.  Impudent  dog  ! — pity  me!  He  little 
knows  that  I  hold  the  thread  of  his  fate  in  my  hands,  to  snap 
when  I  choose."  And  Fitz-Faun  snapped  his  fingers  by  way 
of  illustration. 

This  conference  took  place  in  an  office  of  the  agricultural 
ware-rooms,  from  which  it  was  separated  by  only  a  glass 
partition.  Various  customers  were  examining  the  crooked 
and  uncouth  articles  exhibited  for  sale  outside,  while  quizzing 
clerks  commended  their  finish  and  beauty.  After  Fitz-Faun 


WOLFSDEN.  293 

had  gone,  a  countryman,  who  had  observed  him  through  tho 
glass,  came  in  and  asked  Alek  if  he  was  acquainted  with  the 
Mr.  Smith  who  had  just  left  him. 

"  His  name  is  not  Smith,  but  Fitz-Faun,"  said  Alek. 

"  Fitz-Forn  ! "  said  the  countryman  ;  "  strange  !  —  but  do 
you  know  his  wife  ?  " 

"  He*  is  not  married,"  said  Alek. 

"  Fitz-Forn  !  —  not  married  !  —  strange  !  "    muttered  the 
countryman. 

Alek  asked  no  explanation  ;  but  when  the  countryman  had 
made  his  purchases,  he  took  note  of  his  name  and  residence. 
It  was  George  Washington  Bowpin,  of  Furrowdale. 
25* 


CHAPTER    XIX. 


What  should  she  do  ?     Attempt  once  more 

To  gain  the  late  deserted  shore  ?  —  FEMALE  SEDUCERS. 

NOTHING  could  be  further  from  Alek's  intention  than  to 
renew  his  acquaintance  with  the  splendid  Erycina  ;  yet  h, 
happened  that  Fitz-Faun's  prediction,  that  his  first  visit 
•would  be  paid  to  her,  was  verified.  Scarcely  had  that  epi 
curean  departed,  when  a  prompt  young  man  brought  a  billet 
to  Alek,  informing  him  that  a  person  wished  to  meet  him  on 
important  business,  at  the  Astor  House,  in  private  parlor 
No.  12,  at  seven  o'clock,  p.  M.  Alek  accepted  the  appoint 
ment,  and  in  due  season  repaired  thither  ;  and,  being  shown 
into  the  dimly-lighted  parlor,  was  welcomed  by  a  very  young 
'gentleman,  very  elegantly  dressed,  and  very  handsome.  When 
their  eyes  met,  Alek  started  with  surprise  ;  and  Erycina,  see 
ing  herself  recognized,  blushed,  but  commanded  herself  suffi 
ciently  to  commence  the  conversation. 

"  I  wish,"  said  she,  "  first,  to  inquire  the  reason  of  your 
abrupt  departure." 

"  Because,"  said  Alek,  "  I  felt  that  my  only  safety  was  in 
flight.  I  would  not  be  guilty  of  trifling  with  your  feelings, 
nor  of  proceeding  in  a  course  incompatible  with  your  honor 
and  my  own.  To  be  perfectly  frank  with  you, — for  my  con- 


WOLFSDEN.  295 

duct  demands,  at  least,  this  reparation,  —  it  was  the  sudden 
recollection  of  my  mother,  so  strongly  impressed  that  I 
seemed  to  see  her  face,  filled  with  solicitude  and  warning, 
and  bidding  me  to  flee.  I  regret  that  I  have  ever  for  a  mo 
ment  disregarded  her  pure  instruction  ;  but  I  rejoice,  for  both 
of  us,  that  she  was  not  quite  forgotten." 

"  I  understand  you,"  said  Erycina  ;.  "  I  had  already  begun 
to  understand  you,  but  I  wished  to  hear  your  explanation, 
for  I  doubted  whether  men  were  ever  conscientiously  pure. 
You  would  not  wonder  at  my  doubt,  if  I  should  tell  you  what 
I  have  seen.  I  am  glad  to  change  my  opinion  ;  and  I  will 
not  again  be  tempted  to  believe  that  all  virtue  is  pretence. 

"  I  presume  that  you  wonder  at  my  expressing  a  regard 
for  virtue  ;  for,  notwithstanding  your  reference  to  my  honor, 
no  doubt  you  understand  my  position  as  one  whose  honor  is. 
lost.  I  am,  indeed,  one  of  that  unfortunate  class  whom  the 
world  so  regards.  But  I  do  not  love  dishonor.  O,  how  I  hate 
it !  My  soul  longs  to  fly  back  over  the  impassable  gulf  to  pu 
rity  and  self-respect.  0,  MY  mother  !  Yes,  Mr.  Arbor,  I  too 
had  a  mother  !  If  her  departed  spirit  still  feels  interest  in  her 
lost  daughter,  there  must  be  sorrow  even  in  heaven  !  Excuse 
my  emotion.  I  know  not  why  I  am  led  to  speak  of  myself! 

"  I  sought  this  interview  to  bid  }rou  beware  of  Fitz-Faun. 
He  is  your  enemy,  and  will  spare  no  pains  to  injure  or  destroy 
you  ;  and  he  is  more  to  be  feared  than  you  suppose.  He  has 
wealth  and  cunning,  and  the  resolution  that  hesitates  at  noth 
ing  to  effect  his  purpose.  If  you  had  tasted  the  wine  offered 
you  last  evening,  his  purpose  would  have  been  accomplished ; 
for  it  was  prepared  especially  for  you,  as  I  have  -since  had 
reason  to  believe,  and  would  have  put  ydu  entirely  in  his 
power,  so  that  not  even  your  mother's  call  would  have  saved 


296  WOLFSDEN. 

you.  It  was  your  voluntary  self-ruin,  the  ruin  of  your  char 
acter  and  reputation,  that  he  aimed  at  then.  Being  foiled  in 
that,  he  will  not  hesitate  at  treachery  and  violence.  He  has 
his  tools.  Sir  Marc  is  one  of  them,  and  they  have  already 
conferred  with  regard  to  you. 

"I  do  not  know  the  cause  of  his  malice,  but  suppose,  from 
expressions  I  overheard,  that  he  looks  upon  you  as  a  rival, 
or  as  preventing  his  designs  —  probably  criminal  designs  — 
elsewhere.  Perhaps  this  hint  may  enable  you  to  understand 
his  motives,  which  I  do  not.  Now  my  errand  is  done,  I  will 
not  detain  you  longer." 

"I  thank  you  much,"  said  Alek,  "for  this  information. 
If  I  can  be  of  any  real  service  to  you,  you  may  command  me. 
I  judge,  from  your  expressions,  that  you  are  not  satisfied  with 
your  present  position.  Why  not  leave  it,  while  it  is  still 
possible,  before  your  mind  shall  become  corrupted  ?  " 

"I  have  left  it,"  said  she,  with  earnestness;  "and  I  will 
die  before  I  will  return  to  it.  To  regain  an  honorable  posi 
tion  as  a  woman,  is  impossible  ;  but  I  will  not  lead  a  life  of 
self-loathing  infamy.  This  disguise  will  serve  me  among 
strangers,  where,  as  a  man,  I  can  gain  honorable  employment 
without  reference  for  my  character,  which  would  be  required 
of  a  woman  ;  for,  though  every  stranger,  if  a  man,  is  pre 
sumed  to  be  respectable,  every  woman  whose  history  is  un 
known  is  suspected  and  condemned.  Such  is  man's  justice 
to  woman  ! 

"  I  have  skill  to  earn  a  support  by  teaching  music.  In  a 
few  hours  I  shall  be  in  a  distant  city.  I  have  money  to  last 
till  I  can  obtain  employment ;  and  I  shall  be  happy  when  I 
can  again  live  by  my  own  exertions,  —  and  perhaps  recom- 


WOLFSDEN.  297 

pense  my  angel  mother  with  the  joy  which  the  angels  have 
over  repentant  sinners. 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  kind  wishes.  But  you  owe  me  no 
gratitude,  for  I  was  bound  to  atone  for  the  intended  evil,  of 
which  I  was  made  the  instrument,  though  not  the  accomplice, 
for  I  was  not  then  aware  of  his  malignant  and  treacherous 
intentions.  I  was  then  the  slave  of  the  wicked  Fitz-Faun. 
He  would  make  my  ruin  of  soul  and  body  complete ;  and 
through  me  he  sought  to  ruin  you.  Your  mother's  image 
saved  you,  —  the  memory  of  mine  shall  redeem  me.  It  is 
but  a  few  months  since  I  was  led  away.  Few  know  me,  and 
none  of  those,  not  even  yourself,  do  I  wish  to  see  again. 
When  I  shall  be  among  those  who  know  nothing  of  my 
shame,  I  shall  have  the  luxury  of  an  untarnished  name,  and 
can  the  better  deserve  it." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  your  resolution,"  said  Alek ;  "  but 
your  plan,  though  better  than  none,  is  not  the  best.  Your 
best  chance  of  usefulness  and  happiness  requires  that  you 
should  regain  your  proper  position  as  a  woman ;  and  this, 
though  perhaps  not  so  speedily  attained,  is  not  difficult.  To 
conceal  your  sex  long  is  entirely  out  of  the  question.  But 
in  your  own  attire  the  few  who  know  you  would  not  be 
likely  to  meet  and  recognize  you  in  a  distant  town,  and  in 
the  plain  dress  and  respectable  employment  of  a  music-teach 
er.  In  many  places  sufficiently  remote,  yet  sufficiently  popu 
lous,  may  be  found  discreet  women,  whose  protection  would 
be  a  sufficient  passport  to  respect,  and  who  would  have  the 
delicacy  to  understand  and  appreciate  your  object,  without 
requiring  an  account  of  the  past,  for  the  instincts  of  benevo 
lence  in  women  are  disposed  to  search  out  only  what  is  good 
and  hopeful, 


298  WOLFSDEN. 

"  If  you  will  allow  me  to  advise  you,  and  will  give  me  so 
much  of  your  history  (since  I  already  know  the  worst  of  it) 
as  shall  enable  me  to  judge  how  best  to  aid  you,  you  may  rely 
upon  my  zeal,  and  you  still  will  be  at  liberty  to  follow  your 
own  counsel." 

"  I  need  counsel  wiser  than  my  own,"  said  Erycina  ;  "  and 
my  history  is  a  brief  one. 

"  I  lost  my  parents  in  early  life,  and  was  brought  up  by 
an  uncle  and  aunt,  who  gave  me  all  the  advantages  of  the 
village  where  they  resided.  My  natural  talent  for  music  was 
particularly  cultivated,  with  the  view  of  my  becoming  a  teach 
er,  and  I  had  commenced  giving  lessons  when  my  good  uncle 
died.  My  aunt,  with  whom  I  continued  to  reside,  was  a 
woman  of  most  amiable  disposition,  but  too  unacquainted 
with  the  world,  and  too  deficient  in  prudence  and  precau 
tion,  for  our  safety.  My  skill  in  music  gained  for  me  atten 
tion  and  employment,  and  my  aunt  was  gratified  with  the 
praises  bestowed  on  me. 

"  In  one  of  the  few  wealthy  families  where  I  gave  lessons 
I  first  met  Fitz-Fauu.  He  was  the  most  accomplished  per 
son  I  had  ever  seen,  and  all  his  accomplishments  were  from 
that  moment  devoted  to  my  ruin.  Nothing  could  be  more 
delicate  and  refined  than  his  first  advances.  My  aunt,  with 
whom  he  immediately  made  acquaintance,  believed  him  a 
paragon  of  every  excellence,  and  particularly  praised  his 
candor  and  sincerity.  He  can  counterfeit  every  virtue  with 
such  perfect  seeming,  that,  on  finding  out  his  true  character, 
one  is  tempted  to  believe  all  seeming  virtue  but  counterfeit. 
His  hypocrisy  is  the  most  complete  of  all  his  accomplish 
ments,  and  he  possesses  every  accomplishment  consistent  with 
utter  depravity. 


YTOLFSDEN.  299 

"  My  heart  was  full  of  confidence  and  love,  ready  to  be 
bestowed  on  the  first  congenial  object,  and  I  thought  him 
worthy  of  it  all.  I  gave  him  my  whole  heart.  I  would  have 
died  fcr  him ;  but  he  required  more  than  that,  —  even  to 
the  utter  extinction  of  my  moral  being,  —  the  death  of  my 
soul. 

"  He  managed  to  deceive  me  by  a  mock  marriage,  while 
on  a  pleasure  excursion,  and  we  lived  several  months  in  a 
beautiful  retreat  near  the  city.  His  real  character  soon  be 
came  apparent ;  but  so  entire  was  my  devotion  to  him,  and 
so  impossible  was  it  for  me  to  harbor  a  thought  of  censure, 
that  I  lowered  my  standard  of  morality,  and  strove  to  think 
villany  excusable  ;  and  when  my  moral  sense  was  most  out 
raged  by  his  avowal  of  the  worst  sentiments,  I  only  regretted 
that  I  had  formed  such  ideas  of  goodness  that  the  idol  of  my 
love  held  them  in  contempt.  I  began  to  believe  that  all 
proper  and  virtuous  sentiment  among  men  is  but  fashionable 
pretence ;  and  only  lost  my  respect  for  my  betrayer,  by 
learning  to  despise  all  mankind. 

"  Of  course  I  could  not  be  happy  while  thus  parting  with 
all  that  is  elevated  and  beautiful  in  existence,  and  dragging 
my  soul  to  be  fit  companion  to  a  depraved  sensualist.  I  felt 
myself  a  wreck  upon  a  dark  ocean,  without  a  guide  or  even 
au  object  to  strive  for.  Though  it  had  been  but  a  few  months 
since  I  left  my  happy  and  innocent  home,  I  knew  that,  sooner 
or  later,  I  should  be  cast  aside  a  worthless  thing,  and  I  firmly 
resolved  that  when  that  moment  should  come  I  would  cease 
to  live.  But  the  dread  of  the  death  I  determined  on  kept 
me  still  more  subservient  to  my  tyrant's  will.  I  feared  to 
provoke  him  to  discard  me,  and  thus  hasten  my  fate.  I 
hoped  that  death  might  reach  me  in  some  other  way,  and 


300  WOLFSDEN. 

save  me  the  horror  of  suicide.  I  welcomed  the  news  of  pes 
tilence  ;  and  when  I  heard  of  a  shipwreck,  how  I  envied 
the  victims  !  Yet  I  was  forced  to  appear  gay,  and  to  study 
the  arts  of  fascination,  that  I  might  protract  my  wretched 
life! 

"  It  was  but  recently  that  I  revolved  thoughts  of  escaping 
from  my  condition.  I  began  to  reflect,  that  since  men  are 
privileged  to  act  either  wickedly  or  virtuously,  without  for 
feiting  the  respect  of  society,  I  might  assume  the  dress  of  a 
man,  and,  by  concealing  my  sex,  hide  my  reproach,  and  be 
permitted  to  live  without  purchasing  existence  by  shame. 
Yet  these  vague  thoughts  might  not  have  ripened  to  resolu 
tion,  but  for  the  events  of  last  evening.  I  saw  you,  and  by 
some  strange  influence  my  former  ideas  of  the  reality  of 
manly  virtue  revived,  and  I  looked  upon  you  as  their  embod 
iment.  Your  behavior  during  the  evening  weakened  the 
impression,  and  gave  new  attractions  to  evil.  But  when  you 
broke  from  me  and  fled,  I  was  not  surprised.  I  understood 
you,  and  was  glad  that  you  had  not  fallen.  Fitz-Faun  re 
proached  me  for  your  escape,  and  for  the  first  time  used 
language  of  insult  and  threatening.  I  did  not  reply,  but  I 
resolved,  and  you  see  that  I  have  acted." 

"  Who  is  Messalina  ?  "  said  Alek. 

"  I  know  not.  I  never  saw  her  till  yesterday,  when  I  was 
required  to  appear  as  her  sister.  She  is  probably  another 
victim  of  Fitz-Faun's,  as  wretched,  and,  perhaps,  as  unhappy 
as  myself.  If  she  is  less  unhappy,  she  is  more  wretched  ;  for, 
if  her  mind  is  reconciled  to  infamy,  there  is  no  hope  of  her 
escape." 

"  How  much  do  you  know  of  Sir  Marc  ?  " 

"  But  little.     I  know  nothing  of  his  history.     He  is  as  bad 


WOLFSDEN.  301 

as  he  is  capable  of  being.  How  great  his  abilities  are,  I  can 
not  tell.  He  is  illiterate,  though  he  has  generally  the  tact  to 
conceal  it.  But  his  knowledge  of  the  world,  especially  the 
bad  world,  is  complete.  He  is  a  tool  of  Fitz-Faun ;  which 
proves  that  he  has  abilities  for  evil,  for  Fits-Faun  employs 
none  but  capable  tools.  He  is  doubtless  employed  chiefly  for 
desperate  enterprises,  where  fraud  will  not  prevail,  and  where 
force  and  courage  are  required." 

"  And  what  of  the  count  ?  " 

"  He  is  a  pretender,  an  impostor,  a  tenant  and  tool  of 
Fitz-Faun.  You  see  that  he  is  polished.  He  is  an  imported 
article.  Fitz-Faun  prides  himself  on  the  perfection  of  his 
tools." 

"  I  see,"  said  Alek,  "  that  he  is  a  systematic  villain.  I  am 
fully  convinced  of  your  sincerity,  and  will  assist  you  to  place 
yourself  beyond  his  power,  and  to  recover  a  proper  position 
in  life.  I  have  relatives  in  Saco  who  will  receive  you,  and 
their  reception  will  enable  you  to  renew  your  vocation  as  a 
teacher.  They  would  receive  and  aid  you  still  more  zeal 
ously,  if  they  knew  your  history ;  but  there  is  no  necessity 
for  your  suffering  that  humiliation.  Let  the  past  be  buried 
in  forgetfulness.  I  will  simply  write  to  my  aunt  that  a 
young  woman,  dependent  upon  her  own  industry,  wishes 
employment  as  a  teacher  of  music.  She  will  probably  invite 
you  to  come,  and  offer  to  receive  you  temporarily  into  her 
own  family  ;  after  which,  your  destiny  will  be  what  you  may 
make  it." 

Alek  looked  and  spoke  with  the  decision  and  gravity  of  his 

father.     The  spirit  of  his  mother  prompted  his  action.     The 

impulsive  and  passion-driven  youth  of  the  preceding  evening 

was  merged  in  the  considerate  and  virtue-guided  man.     The 

26 


302  WOLFSDEN. 

generous  warmth  of  sympathy  prompted  him,  but  he  reflected 
before  he  acted.  He  considered  that  there  would  be  some 
inconvenience,  and  perhaps  risk,  in  what  he  proposed,  but 
that  the  promise  of  good  overbalanced  both.  He  would  not 
be  governed  by  prudence  alone,  but  employed  it  to  direct  his 
benevolence. 

The  result  was,  that  the  fallen  Erycina  rose  again,  and  there 
was  joy  in  heaven  over  the  returned  sinner.  Uncle  Lemuel 
Hobart  and  good  Aunt  Nabby  received  the  plainly-dressed  and 
modest  music-teacher,  Miss  Meekly,  —  for  such  was  her  proper 
name,  which  she  now  resumed.  The  grace  and  beauty  of  her 
person  became,  under  the  good  influences  which  now  sur 
rounded  her,  the  fit  adornments  of  a  heart  and  life  equally 
graceful  and  beautiful.  Her  talents  as  a  music-teacher  com 
manded  patronage,  and  she  again  knew  the  luxury  of  virtuous 
independence. 


CHAPTER    XX. 


MR.  SAMUEL  BOYNTON,  the  uncle  to  whom  Alek  took  Har 
ry's  letter  of  introduction,  and  through  whose  recommenda 
tion  he  obtained  his  present  situation,  continued  to  treat  him 
with  kind  notice ;  and  as  he  observed  the  young  rustic's 
improved  manner  and  deportment,  and  received  from  Mr. 
Greening  the  most  satisfactory  reports  of  his  ability  and  reli 
ability,  he  treated  him  with  still  more  consideration,  —  and 
especially  after  he  had  received  particularly  gratifying  ac 
counts  of  Harry's  reformation  and  honorable  career.  Harry 
frequently  wrote  to  his  uncle,  and  his  letters  bore  the  evidence 
of  a  newly-awakened  dignity  of  character  ;  —  he  constantly 
referred  to  Deacon  Arbor's  family,  and  especially  Alek,  as 
having  developed  "his  better  genius." 

A  better  genius  had  certainly  been  developed  in  Harry. 
His  aroused  emotions  seemed  to  have  called  up  other  and 
nobler  faculties,  hitherto  dormant.  With  the  opened  foun 
tain  of  his  love  had  been  unsealed  deeper  fountains  of  thought. 
He  pondered  upon  the  endowments,  the  capabilities,  the  re 
sponsibilities,  of  life.  He  reflected  that  each  day's  history 
might  be  pregnant  with  an  endless  series  of  consequences, 
and  that  even  now  his  character  might  be  taking  its  bent  for 
eternity.  The  solemn  thought  matured  in  his  mind  to  convic- 


304  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

tion.  It  was  not  difficult  to  discard  his  frivolities.  They 
had  lost  their  power  to  please.  He  had  become  a  man,  and 
his  manly  spirit  rejected  childish  things. 

His  keen  intellect,  no  longer  obstructed  by  folly,  was  more 
than  equal  to  the  assigned  studies  of  his  class.  He  reviewed 
and  accomplished  the  tasks  formerly  slighted  or  evaded,  and 
though  he  had  been  once  "degraded"  and  twice  "rusticated," 
he  now,  at  the  close  of  the  term,  graduated  with  the  highest 
honors. 

He  immediately  repaired  to  New  York,  on  his  way  home 
ward.  His  uncle  received  him  with  gratified  pride.  Harry 
was  his  favorite  nephew;  and  having  once  predicted  his  future 
success,  his  pride  of  opinion  had  ever  since  led  him  to  look 
upon  the  best  side  of  his  character,  and  now  his  regard  for 
Harry,  and  his  regard  for  his  own  discernment,  were  equally 
gratified.  He  gave  a  "  soiree  "  in  honor  of  his  nephew's 
honors  ;  and  Harry  carried  his  uncle's  card  of  invitation  to 
his  friend  Alek. 

The  two  friends  were  delighted  with  each  other's  improve 
ment.  Alek  saw  in  his  fashionable  friend  the  elevation  of 
those  solid  elements  upon  which  full  reliance  and  lasting 
esteem  can  be  based  ;  and  Harry  saw  with  surprise  how 
quickly  the  rustic  had  acquired  a  becoming  address.  In 
their  intimacy  he  alluded  to  this  improvement,  and  Alek 
playfully  rejoined,  in  Harry's  old  phrase,  "  0,  if  I  've  a  genius 
for  anything,  it 's  for  gentility." 

Harry  inquired  about  Wolfsden,  and  Alek  gave  him  the 
latest  advices,  and  asked  how  soon  he  intended  to  again 
explore  that  remote  region,  and  look  after  his  conquests. 
Harry  replied  that  he  had  found  the  natives  too  refractory, 


WOLFSDEN.  ol)5 

and  had  abandoned  the  province  to  his  rival,  the  heathen 
missionary. 

"  I  doubt,"  said  he,  "  if  I  have  any  adherents  there,  except 
my  good  allies  the  Arbors  and  Bowlers ;  and,  unless  they 
have  revolted,  the  Chinbys." 

"  You  do  not  forget  the  Murrays,  —  at  least,  my  fair 
cousin  Margaret  ?  "  said  Alek  ;  for,  though  he  still  felt  sore 
upon  the  subject,  he  determined  to  break  that  icy  barrier  to 
perfect  confidence. 

"  Certainly,  7  do  not  forget"  said  Harry,  with  more  of 
feeling  in  his  tone  than  he  meant  to  betray  ;  and  then,  to 
correct  himself,  added,  with  a  forced  and  unhappy  smile,  "I 
shall  not  forget  any  who  are  dear  to  you." 

Alek  immediately  apprehended  his  friend's  mistake,  more 
from  his  manner  than  his  words,  and  hastened  to  set  him 
right. 

"  But  Mrs.  Simperkins,"  said  Harry,  "  told  me  positively 
that  you  were  engaged." 

"  Mrs.  Simperkins  is  not  reliable  authority,"  said  Alek. 
"  She  told  Cousin  Margaret  that  you  was  a  student  of  divinity. 
I  think  you  had  better  hasten  to  Wolfsden,  and  '  define  your 
position,'  as  the  politicians  say." 

"  I  '11  go  and  disclaim  the  divinity,  at  any  rate,"  said 
Harry,  "even  if  I  have  to  'stump  the  district,'  as  the  politi 
cians  also  say." 

He  said  it  with  a  forced  and  very  solemn  gayety.  The 
impassable  wall  which  had  so  long  shut  up  the  way  of  his 
heart's  longing  desire  was  now  thrown  down,  and  hope,  new 
born  and  doubtful,  allured  him  in  the  path  of  promise,  whose 
end  was  hidden  in  the  mists  of  uncertainty.  But  hope  soon 
grows  confident  when  mated  with  earnest  resolve. 
26* 


306  WOLFSDEN. 

"  I  will  go  to  Wolfsden,"  soliloquized  Harry,  "  if  but  to 
discard  the  divinity.  Provoking  Simperkins  !  " 

In  every  heart  there  is  a  cell  formed  by  nature  for  connu 
bial  love.  In  generous  hearts  it  is  a  large  cell,  and  takes  up 
much  room,  and  its  walls  are  expansive,  and  extend  indefi 
nitely  to  receive  and  cherish  the  progeny  of  tender  responsi 
bilities  which  follow  in  the  train  of  connubial  love.  In  nig 
gard  hearts  the  cell  is  small,  and  its  walls  are  rigid  and 
unyielding ;  connubial  love  is  cramped  for  lack  of  room,  and 
chilled  by  want  of  warmth ;  if  love's  fond  pledglings  peer 
about,  they  find  no  entrance,  and  soon  the  cell  is  tenantless, 
collapsed,  obliterated.  But  whether  hearts  be  generous  or 
niggard,  and  the  connubial  cell  little  or  big,  it  is  fitted  for 
but  one  tenant,  and,  however  other  cells  may  be  filled,  this 
still  waits  impatient  for  its  proper  guest. 

Harry's  heart  is  large.  It  has  many  cells,  richly  stored. 
In  one  there  only  hangs  an  idolized  image  upon  its  spacious 
walls.  The  image  may  be  worshipped  in  the  silence  of  deep 
love,  but  its  original  is  beyond  his  reach.  Suddenly  hope 
points  a  way  of  access.  He  is  no  longer  satisfied  with  the 
image.  He  aspires  for  the  substantial  bliss. 

"  I  will  go  to  Wolfsden,"  said  Harry,  "  if  but  to  disclaim 
the  divinity." 

"  To  claim  the  divinity,  I  guess,"  replied  Alek. 

Harry's  soiree  at  his  uncle's  was  elegant  and  delightful. 
He  named  such  guests  as  he  chose,  and  others  were  invited 
with  reference  to  his  preferences.  Mr.  Greening,  senior, 
and  lady,  came  together  in  the  same  coach,  notwithstanding 
Harry's  opinion  that  he  came  round  and  she  cornerwise.  Mr. 
Augustus  Greening  and  his  sister  Sophia  came  with  them. 
Mr.  Greening,  with  partial  pride,  handed  out  his  lovely 


WOLFSDEN.  807 

daughter,  and  Augustus  dutifully  assisted  his  doting  mother. 
With  Alek  came  Mr.  Edward  Clevis.  Great  was  that  young 
man's  surprise  at  receiving  a  card  to  a  soiree  at  the  rich  M* 
Boynton'.s.  Alek  treated  it  as  a  matter  of  counse,  but  Mr. 
Clevis  justly  suspected  by  whose  interest  he  had  received  it. 
He  was  exceedingly  and  nervously  gratified  with  the  honor. 
He  could  see  and  perhaps  speak  with  the  beautiful  Sophi;i, 
whose  idolized  image  adorned  the  connubial  cell  of  his  expan 
sible  heart.  It  gave  him  self-confidence  to  hope  for  more 
substantial  possibilities.  Mr.  Greening,  his  employer,  father 
to  the  adorable  Sophia,  would  see  that  others  thought  him 
not  unworthy  of  such  honor ;  and  perhaps  this  step  would 
lead  to  further  advantage,  and  so  on  to  the  summit  of  his 
hopes.  On  how  slight  a  foundation  will  hopeful  youth  erect 
a  superstructure  of  happiness  !  Yet  Edward  Clevis,  though 
possessing  the  self-respect  which  conscious  rectitude  inspires, 
was  one  of  the  least  presumptuous  of  young  men. 

Mr.  Mercutio  Fitz-Faun  was  not  there.  Alek's  suggestion 
to  his  friend  had  erased  the  distinguished  name  of  Fitz-Faun 
from  the  list  of  invitations,  and  substituted  the  humble  one 
of  Edward  Clevis.  Fitz-Faun  well  knew  to  whom  he  owed 
this  exclusion,  but  he  cared  little  for  it.  It  would  not  facili 
tate  his  plans  to  meet  Sophia  in  company  with  her  father. 
He  held  the  final  issue  of  the  campaign  in  his  own  hands,  and- 
only  waited  his  own  time  to  give  the  decisive  blow.  Like 
Napoleon,  he  scorned  the  feeble  machinations  of  other  powers, 
and  revolved  in  his  breast  the  mighty  scheme  which  should 
assert  and  signalize  his  star-led  destiny.  "  Yet,"  said  he, 
"  this  Alek  shall  none  the  less  be  punished.  Sir  Marc  shall 
—  throttle  ?  —  no,  '  scuttle  '  him." 

Harry  was  not  one  to  do  good  offices  by  halves.     Having 


308  WOL.FSDEN. 

introduced  Mr.  Clevis  to  the  soiree,  he  took  care  by  his  own 
considerate  attention  to  put  him  at  ease,  and  in  a  favorable 
position  with  the  company  ;  and,  divining  the  state  of  affairs, 
either  by  a  hint  from  Alek  or  by  his  own  observation,  he 
contrived  to  obtain  for  the  young  man  the  hand  of  the  lovely 
Sophia  in  a  dance,  which  opened  the  way  for  his  presenting 
refreshments  and  partaking  them  with  her.  His  tremulous 
happiness  was  too  apparent  to  the  amused  Sophia ;  yet  she 
could  not  be  offended  with  the  unspoken  sentiments  of  one 
who  worshipped  her  beauty,  and  whose  deportment  was  so 
respectful,  and  even  reverential. 

"  In  his  proper  sphere,"  said  Sophia,  "  he  would  be  a 
charming  lover."' 

Proud  Sophia  !  she  considered  not  that  her  honored  father 
had  once  been  a  humble  apprentice.  The  only  elevated  sphere 
is  that  to  which  virtuous  industry  can  surely,  sooner  or  later, 
attain. 

Proud  Sophia  !  Weigh  in  equal  scales  your  sincere  and 
respectful  lover  with  the  heartless  and  malignant  Fitz-Faun. 
The  one  rich  in  the  solid  endowment  of  purposes  and  re 
solves  for  earnest  life ;  the  other  possessing  the  specious 
blandishments  of  fashionable  vice.  The  one  would  sacrifice 
his  life  to  guard  your  honor  ;  the  other  seeks  to  sacrifice  you 
to  his  idle  caprice.  The  one  sees  and  magnifies  your  merits, 
and  would  devote  his  dearest  interests  to  your  happiness ; 
the  other  counts  upon  your  weakness  and  frailty,  as  the 
means  for  your  ruin.  Yet  the  vain  Sophia  receives  with 
pride  the  false  homage  of  Fitz-Faun,  and  would  be  em 
barrassed  if  he  should  see  her  receive  the  attention  of 
Edward  Clevis. 

0,  that  man  and  woman  might  have  power  to  read  tha 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  .  309 

hearts  of  _those  who  seek  their  love  !  —  that  some  unerring 
test  were  given  to  detect  the  false,  and  prove  the  true  !  0, 
for  the  life  of  that  higher  sphere,  where  congenial  souls  are 
attracted  by  mutual  faith,  and  where  falsehood  dares  not 
approach  the  clear-seeing  eye  of  truth  ! 


CHAPTER    XXI. 


AUTUMNAL  breezes  fan  and  loosen  the  matured  foliage  of 
the  forest  trees.  It  is  pleasant  in  childhood  to  be  let  loose 
in  the  wild  garden  of  nature ;  to  range  at  will  over  the 
uneven  ground,  slippery  with  polished  leaves,  and  spread  with 
rich  abundance  of  scattered  nuts.  To  see  the  nimble  squirrel 
leap  among  the  lofty  boughs,  or  dart  under  the  leaves  and  fill 
his  cheeks  with  supplies  for  his  winter  hoard.  His  provident 
economy  is  his  pastime ;  were  there  no  winter  to  come,  still 
he  would  gather  nuts  for  sport.  The  red-tufted  woodpecker 
flies  swiftly  among  the  branches,  and,  lighting  upon  the  smooth 
trunk,  stands,  regardless  of  the  laws  of  gravitation,  and  ham 
mers  his  rapid  tattoo  above  the  insects'  hidden  nests.  From 
the  depth  of  the  wood  the  drum  of  the  partridge  is  heard, 
beginning  in  slow  and  measured  beats,  but  rapidly  increasing 
in  velocity,  till  the  ear  can  no  longer  distinguish  the  inter 
vals.  In  each  open  glade  or  bushy  dell  the  clustering  black 
berries  tempt  the  eager  grasp,  but  the  briery  bushes  often 
revenge  the  rifled  fruit. 

Let  merry  childhood  range  the  uplands,  and  gather  the 
scattered  nuts,  and  chase  the  nimble  squirrels,  and  admire  the 
gay  plumage  of  the  autumn  birds,  and  listen  to  the  mysteri 
ous  drum  of  the  distant  partridge,  and  leave  fluttering  tro- 


WOLFSDEN.  311 

phics  of  torn  garments  upon  the  briery  shrubs.  The  puro 
air  and  active  pastime  shall  strengthen  the  sinews  for  future 
usefulness,  while  expanding  minds  mature  to  deeper  and 
higher  pursuits. 

But  let  the  thoughtful  wanderer  range  along  the  river's 
level  bank,  where  the  tall  maples,  and  the  spreading  beeches, 
and  the  giant  oaks,  scatter  from  their  waving  arms  the  silent 
falling  leaves,  glowing  with  every  varying  shade  of  nature's 
autumn  hues.  The  dark  rippling  water  is  decked  with 
myriad  trophies  of  the  forest.  Its  shadowy  surface  reflects 
inverted  banks  and  trees.  Its  tranquil  depths  teem  with 
quick  though  silent  life.  The  perch,  mailed  in  scaly  armor, 
lurks  in  the  deep  eddies  and  quiet  pools,  well  known  to  the 
truant  school-boy.  The  pickerel,  tyrant  of  ponds  and  streams, 
Avaits  in  patient  stillness  among  the  tall  grasses  and  floating 
leaves  near  the  river's  border,  whence  he  darts  upon  the  ven 
turous  frog  or  excursive  minnow.  The  trout,  speckled  with 
vermilion,  silver,  and  gold,  frequents  where  cold  springs 
abound  ;  the  chub,  or  cheven,  loves  the  quick  water  rippling 
among  the  rocks ;  and  the  silvery-gliding  eel  winds  among 
the  aquatic  plants  in  still  waters.  The  angler  knows  the 
favorite  haunts  of  all  his  finny  prey,  and  often  fills  his 
basket  with  the  struggling  victims  of  his  fraudful  skill. 

Far  from  my  delight  be  the  cruel  pastime  to  bait  the 
barbed  hook  with  the  pierced  insect  or  the  writhing  worm  ! 
Disport  yourselves  securely,  ye  scaly  inhabitants  of  the  deep 
pools  and  swift  waters  !  Often  I  visit  your  silent  haunts  to 
bathe  in  your  cool  element,  but  not  to  prey  upon  your  harm 
less  race.  Man's  sustenance  and  enjoyment  require  not  the 
pain  and  death  of  inferior  creatures,  for  nature's  guiltless 
bounties  are  spread  on  every  side. 


312  WOLFSDEN. 

Let  us  walk  upon  the  soft  turf  in  the  shady  orchard,  and 
pause  under  the  trees  laden  with  mellow  fruit.  How  pleas 
ant,  how  nourishing,  how  abundant !  The  neatly-cultivated 
garden  invites  our  notice.  Here  is  rich  supply  for  present 
and  future  luxury.  Dinners  of  many  autumn  days  yet  to 
come  shall  owe  their  abundant  variety  to  these  fruitful  beds 
of  beets  and  parsnips  and  onions,  and  those  long  rows  of 
cabbages  and  beans ;  to  that  patch  of  turnips  and  corner  of 
celery,  and  those  spreading  vines  of  squashes.  Green  peas 
and  ripe  currants  and  cherries  have  had  their  day ;  but  the 
purple  plums,  and  the  yellow  pears,  and  luscious  melons, 
take  their  place  in  the  list  of  luxuries.  The  garden  is  the 
delight  of  flowery  spring,  the  storehouse  of  summer  and 
autumn,  and  the  bountiful  source  of  the  winter  cellar's  ample 
supply. 

Already  are  the  fields  of  grain  gathered  into  the  barn,  but 
the  corn-fields  still  wait  the  harvest.  The  heavy  ears  rustle 
among  their  white  husks  above  the  huge  yellow  "pumpkins 
which  strew  the  soil.  There  will  be  merry  evening  huskings 
when  the  crop  shall  be  piled  into  the  barn,  and  all  the  family 
with  social  neighbor  friends  shall  gather  around  the  heap, 
with  laugh,  and  song,  and  merry  joke,  and  brisk  reply,  and 
vaunting  boasts,  and  trials  of  expertness,  while  successive 
baskets  are  heaped  with  golden  ears,  and  borne  on  broad  and 
willing  shoulders  to  the  granary. 

Heap  high  your  granaries,  ye  young  men  of  broad  shoul 
ders,  and  strong  backs,  and  willing  minds !  How  may  your 
cheerful  hearts  expand  with  all  the  genial  virtues,  —  your 
cheerful  hearts,  never  fated  to  know  the  fear  of  soul-con 
tracting  want ! 

And  you,  above  all,  fair  daughters  of  rural  abodes,  pure 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  X  .  313 

as  your  mountain  air,  sweet  as  the  wild-flowers  of  your  fields, 
bright  as  your  sunny  hills,  gay  as  your  warbling  birds,  gener 
ous  as  the  soul  of  all-bestowing  nature  !  Ye  have  nurtured 
my  childhood,  and  rejoiced  my  youth,  and  blessed  iny  man 
hood.  My  love  shall  repay  your  care,  and  reward  your  ten 
derness  to  the  advancing  infirmities  of  age. 

Churn  the  yellow  butter  ;  press  the  white  curd  ;  pick  and 
prepare  the  sweet  preserves  and  the  sharp  pickles  ;  stir  the 
bubbling  pudding  ;  knead  the  white  bread,  and  mix  the 
brown ;  roll  the  cream-shortened  pastry,  and  overspread  the 
broad  platters  and  the  deep  pans ;  pare  and  slice  the  crispy 
apples ;  stew  the  ponderous  pumpkins  ;  beat  the  new-laid 
eggs,  and  fill  the  expectant  crust ;  with  watchful  eye  explore 
the  glowing  oven,  and  when  the  rightly-tempered  heat  shall 
serve,  commit  your  labors  to  its  perfecting  power.  Now 
spread  the  table,  draw  the  tea,  and  blow  the  horn.  Soon 
shall  my  willing  feet  obey  the  welcome.  Sweet  shall  be  my 
repast,  prepared  by  your  neat  hands,  and  partaken  in  your 
cheerful  company.  Though  my  hands  be  hardened  with  labor, 
and  my  face  be  embrowned  by  exposure,  and  my  clothes  lack 
the  dainty  gloss  and  my  tongue  the  smooth  polish  of  city 
refinement,  yet  have  I  the  wisdom  to  understand  your  worth, 
and  the  heart  to  reciprocate  your  faithful  care. 

When  dainty-fingered  foppery,  from  Fashion's  beaten  walks, 
shall  come  to  court  your  partial  favor,  let  not  your  eyes  bo 
dazzled  nor  your  judgment  be  deluded  by  the  unaccustomed 
outside  show.  Weigh  with  double  scrutiny  the  worth  set  off 
by  double  pretence.  But,  if  your  heart  incline  to  yield,  let 
some  faithful  friend  inquire  what  impartial  fame  reports. 
Poor  is  the  hope  from  the  plighted  love  of  the  inconstant,  the 
selfish,  the  vain,  the  idle,  the  imprudent,  the  improvident. 
27 


314  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

Above  all,  as  you  would  shun  a  life  of  mortifying  humilia 
tion  or  disgraceful  strife,  reject  the  imperious,  the  exacting, 
the  jealous,  the  envious,  the  easily  offended  and  quick  to  re 
taliate  !  Better  beneath  the  paternal  roof  to  keep  your  un- 
wasted  freshness  till  a  worthier  destiny  shall  offer,  or  till 
Time's  finger  shall  write  the  lines  of  ancient  maidenhood  upon 
your  peaceful  brow. 

New  England  homes,  New  England  comforts  and  enjoyments, 
New  England  intellect  and  beauty,  New  England  domestic  and 
social  life,  —  here  abound  the  solid  virtues,  and  all  that  is  of 
permanent  value  in  elegant  refinement.  In  her  healthy  clime 
the  human  germ  expands  in  its  highest  perfection.  Domestic 
duties  direct  and  nurture  its  early  strength.  Its  common- 
school  system  calls  forth,  by  skilful  instruction  and  worthy 
emulation,  its  native  powers.  All  become  informed,  and  some 
in  every  town  rise  to  eminence.  These  supply  the  learned  pro 
fessions,  the  places  of  public  life,  and  the  remunerative  pur 
suits  and  enterprises  of  manufactures  and  commerce,  while 
many,  discarding  ambition,  remain  to  adorn  and  elevate  society 
at  home.  Females  seldom  permanently  leave  the  vicinity  of 
their  native  place,  and  therefore  New  England  country  society 
has  a  still  larger  portion  of  intellectual  women,  whose  fame, 
though  confined  to  their  own  circle,  no  less  effectually  serves 
the  higher  purposes  of  humanity. 

Wolfsden  has  sent  forth  its  proportion  of  enterprising  men, 
and  retains  the  material  of  many  more.  That  group  of 
younglings  issuing  from  yon  red  schoolhouse,  with  glowing 
cheeks  and  wide-awake  eyes,  though  rough  and  rude  in  man 
ner  now,  are  in  good  hands,  and  will  fulfil  good  hopes.  Care 
ful  mothers  gently  bend  the  pliant  shoots  of  manhood,  and 
shower  good  influences  upon  susceptible  hearts,  which  shall 


WOLFSDEN.  315 

mature  into  right  thoughts  and  firm  principles.  Gentle  sisters 
and  cousins,  and  favorite  female  companions,  shall  soften  and 
polish  their  manners,  and  excite  the  desire  of  being  loved. 
Life's  opening  prospects  and  responsibilities  shall  awaken  seri 
ous  resolves  and  eiforts,  till  the  wild,  thoughtless  fry  shall  be 
transformed  into  men,  ready  to  take  manhood's  stations  and 
duties. 

Those  little  bashful  girls,  who  hide  at  the  stranger's  ap 
proach,  shall  soon  enough  learn  the  powers  and  privileges  of 
their  sex.  They  will  put  on  airs,  they  will  coquet,  they  will 
tease,  they  will  affect  disdain,  they  will  jilt,  they  will  play 
unnumbered  mad  pranks ;  and  then,  like  the  unbroken  coif, 
which  has  spurned  its  pursuer,  and  proved  its  ability  to  main 
tain  its  freedom,  they  will  relent,  and  receive  the  matrimonial 
curb  with  docile  grace,  and  at  once  step  into  the  sedate  ranks 
of  young  wives  and  mothers,  to  lead  another  generation  by 
the  same  devious  paths  to  the  same  fair  destiny. 

But  some  will  decline  the  matrimonial  bond,  and  prefer 
their  maiden  freedom.  Not  less  happy  are  they  in  their  con 
tented  singleness.  It  is  not  determined  celibacy,  but  prolonged 
girlhood.  They  contemplate  matrimony,  but  place  it  in  the 
uncertain  future.  They  are  in  no  haste  to  give  up  the  privi 
leges  of  maiden  life  —  of  attracting  and  rejecting,  of  plotting, 
expecting,  debating,  delaying,  denying,  disappointing  and  be 
ing  disappointed,  and  then,  like  Penelope  with  her  web,  again 
renewing  the  interminable  task. 

Happy  maidens!  Still  weave  and  unravel  your  unprogress- 
ing  web,  while  impatient  lovers  wait  around.  Life  has  vari 
ous  delights  and  destinies.  Yours  is  not  less  bright  and 
worthy  than  others. 

Fair  Lucinda  —  she  of  the  slender  waist  and  many  curls  — 


816  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

still  helps  her  mother  in  the  mysteries  of  the  kitchen.  Yet 
she  is  ever  ready  for  the  parlor.  Her  hair  is  glossy.  Her 
ringlets  know  and  keep  their  place.  Her  dress  receives  no 
smutch  nor  unseemly  rumple.  When  a  stranger  knocks,  she 
lays  aside  her  apron,  and  is  at  once  the  fine  lady  of  the  par 
lor,  netting  the  everlasting  purse,  and  endowed  with  all  the 
graces  which  shall  bewitch  the  new  comer.  So  her  rever 
end  father,  his  books  of  div.inity  laid  carefully  open,  and  his 
study-chair  ready  for  his  reception,  comes  in  by  a  back  way 
from  inspecting  his  cattle,  or  conducting  his  farm,  and  receives 
his  guests  in  clerical  state. 

*  Let  not  the  parson  be  blamed  for  whatever  of  sham  may  be 
implied  in  these  dexterous  arts.  They  are  required  by  his 
position.  It  is  tacitly  understood  by  his  parish  that  he  shall 
not  impair  the  dignity  of  his  office  as  minister  of  Wolfsden, 
by  doing  anything  or  knowing  anything  that  is  unministerial, 
or  that  is  useful.  A  neighboring  minister  lost  his  parish  in 
consequence  of  putting  on  working-day  clothes  and  holding 
his  plough  a  day  or  two  in  public  view,  and  refusing  to  prom 
ise  better  fashions.  He  replied  thai  his  Master  was  a  carpen 
ter,  and  his  most  eminent  predecessors  in  office  fishermen  and 
tent-makers,  and  he  therefore  felt  it  a  duty  to  do  with  all  his 
might  whatever  his  hands  might  find  to  do,  since  he  did  not 
neglect  his  parish  duties.  Some  thought  his  plea  reasonable, 
especially  as  his  salary  was  small,  and  his  talents  and  zeal 
above  the  common  order ;  but  the  malcontents  prevailed,  and 
Parson  Probe  left  Noodleville  to  a  softer-handed  successor. 

Parson  Boreman,  therefore,  though  he  indulges  in  the 
luxury  of  out-door  labor,  preserves  the  meritorious  pretence 
of  being  always  in  his  study.  To  be  sure,  everybody  knowa 
the  facts  of  the  case,  in  his  private  capacity,  for  every- 


WOLFSBEN.  317 

body  knows  everything  about  everybody  in  Wolfsden  ;  but 
everybody  in  his  public  capacity  knows  nothing  about  it,  but 
assumes  exactly  the  contrary,  and  therefore  no  principle  is 
violated,  nor  dignity  impaired. 

Parsons  have  hearts  and  consciences  even  as  others.  Par 
son  Boreman  has  probably  reflected  that  old  Bang's  fatal 
relapse  and  tragic  end  might  have  been  avoided  but  for  his 
unlucky  visit.  Whatever  the  motive,  —  and  we  will  not  har 
bor  the  suspicion  that  it  was  but  to  strengthen,  his  influence  in 
Deacon  Arbor's  neighborhood,  where  it  was  rather  declining, 
—  he  was  very  kind  to  poor  Susan  and  her  son  Ax.  To  the 
latter  he  offered  a  home  and  a  good  common-school  education, 
if  he  would  remain  in  his  service  till  of  age^  The  Bowler 
family,  where  Susan  and  her  boy  remained,  would  like  to  keep 
them  both,  but  advise  that  Ax  should  accept  the  parson's 
offer,  as  affording  better  prospects.  Ax,  who  remembered  his 
first  benefactor,  the  schoolmaster,  with  gratitude  and  admira 
tion,  had  ambition  also  to  become  a  schoolmaster,  and  stipu 
lated  accordingly.  The  parson  promised  to  aid  him  with  extra 
instruction  to  that  ext'cnt,  if  he  should  prove  capable  and 
worthy  of  it,  which  Ax  considered  a  fair  condition,  and  the 
bargain  was  made,  with  the  consent  of  all  concerned.  So  Ax 
served  the  parson.  Pie  proved  a  trustworthy  lad,  ready  and 
pleasant,  and  became  a  favorite  in  the  house.  His  ambition 
for  learning  was  commended  by  the  old  lady,  and  applauded 
by  Lucinda,  who  offered  to  hear  the  lessons  he  might  find  time 
to  get.  Ax  was  thankful  for  the  favor.  He  found  a  good 
deal  of  time ;  he  was  up  early,  and  found  time  where  most 
people  do  not  think  of  looking_for  it.  He  found  time  in  the 
evening,  when  others  might  be  too  drowsy  to  notice  it.  He 
got  his  "  stent,"  and  made  time  out  of  that.  All  he  gained 
27* 


318  WOLFSDEN. 

was  diligently  employed  with  his  book,  that  he  might  be  a 
schoolmaster.  Such  is  the  power  of  a  particular  object  in 
stimulating  youthful  ambition  to  its'best  efforts.  The  general 
principle  that  "  learning  is  better  than  houses  and  lands," 
though  eloquently  urged  by  official  school-visitors,  and  written 
in  every  copy-book,  fails  of  the  effect  so  easily  produced  by  the 
promise  of  some  particular  reward  for  diligence.  Ax  learned 
fast.  What  he  learned  he  remembered.  His  look  of  cheerful 
intelligence  won  him  favor.  Lucinda  was  proud  of  her  pupil. 
Like  Desdemona,  she  wished  Heaven  had  sent  her  such  a  — 
boy.  Be  patient,  fair  Lucinda  !  Heaven  is  all  bounteous ! 


CHAPTER    XXII. 


WHERE  the  road  lies  along  the  side  of  yonder  hill,  which, 
as  you  pass  by,  towers  on  the  right  away  up  into  the  sky,  and 
on  the  left  slants  away  down  into  a  dark  valley,  —  so  far  down 
that  its  tall  trees  look  like  bushes,  —  along  that  quiet  road, 
looking  like  a  green-bordered  ribbon  bound  on  the  mountain's 
forehead,  let  us  loiter,  and  pick  ripe  blackberries  by  the 
way.  How  high  up  in  the  world,  and  yet  how  solitary  ! 
Nature's  softened  voices  float  in  the  stilly  air, —  the  busy 
insect  hum,  the  murmur  of  the  far-off  falls,  the  barking  of 
the  distant  fox,  the  screaming  eagle,  the  clamorous  crow,  the 
drumming  partridge,  and  often  the  muttering  thunder  heard 
afar  in  a  cloudless  sky. 

As  we  look  downward  far  behind  us,  the  fair  home  and 
extensive  fields  of  Deacon  Arbor  look  like  a  little  green  nook 
in  the  midst  of  a  vast  surrounding  forest.  Beyond  that, 
another  green  spot,  reclaimed  from  Nature's  wild  domain, 
marks  where  the  Bowlers  live.  Beyond  that,  other  patches 
of  green,  with  houses  and  barns  which  look  so  small  that  pig 
mies  and  mice  would  seem  their  appropriate  inhabitants, 
stretch  away,  growing  smaller  and  smaller  to  the  sight,  till 
lost  among  the  dark,  forest-clad  mountains.  The  road  upon 
which  we  now  linger  winds  along  among  them,  and  links  them 


320  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

together,  as  children  string  green  leaves  upon  a  slender  thread, 
and  form  a  waving  garland. 

As  we  pass  onward  and  leave  the  view  behind,  the  road 
declines  and  is  lost  in  a  woody  valley ;  but  it  reappears  on 
hills  and  mountain  sides  beyond,  still  strung  with  green  patches 
like  a  waving  garland,  and  pigmy  houses  like  little  pictures 
on  the  stringed  leaves. 

On  our  right,  a  little  further  on,  before  we  descend  far,  is  a 
pleasant-looking  house  on  a  pleasant  spot,  where  the  early 
morning  sunshine  comes,  and  the  last  rays  of  sunset  linger. 
The  house  looks  old,  but  cheerful  in  its  old  age ;  it  is  inno 
cent  of  paint,  or  other  needless  ornament.  An  ample  orchard 
overlooks  it  from  the  rear,  and  in  its  turn  it  overlooks  an  am 
ple  garden  in  front.  Fields  and  pastures,  dotted  with  various 
cattle,  extend  on  every  side.  It  is  evidently  a  home  where 
peace  and  plenty  abound.  It  is  Major  Murray's.  Let  us 
enter. 

A  cheerful  matron,  whom  the  suns  of  sixty  summers  have 
matured  to  a  becoming  ripeness,  welcomes  us.  She  is  busy  in 
various  matters  between  the  kitchen  fire  and  kitchen  table, 
transferring  white  things  from  the  table  to  the  fire,  and  brown 
things  from  the  fire  to  the  table,  still  entertaining  us  with 
pleasant  inquiries  and  remarks.  Her  active  industry  is  her 
life.  Like  Milton's  Hobson,  her  destiny  is  that  she  shall 
never  rot,  while  she  can  still  jog  on  and  keep  her  trot.  Re 
move  from  her  the  cares  and  labors  which  employ  each  cheer 
ful  day,  and  her  earnest  spirit,  now  rejoicing  in  its  active 
sphere,  would  pine  and  perish  in  discontent.  Should  some  imp 
of  evil  offer  to  aid  her  labors,  and  demand  employment,  as 
once  the  devil  did  of  the  wizard  Michael  Scott,  she  would 
seat  him  at  her  table,  and  stuff  him  with  good  things  till  his 


WOLFSDEN.  321 

evil  should  become  good.  A  hungry  vagabond  is  a  godsend, 
before  whom  she  delights  to  spread  a  bountiful  supply,  that  he 
may  eat  till  he  can  eat  no  more,  and  store  the  residue  in  his 
empty  sack  for  future  use.  Give  her  some  pretence  for  osten 
tatious  display,  and  with  what  bustling  pride  will  she  show 
you  the  treasures  of  her  well-ordered  house, —  her  dairy,  with 
its  stores  of  sweet  yellow  butter  and  savory  cheese  ;  her  chests 
and  dressers  filled  with  bleached  linen  and  fleecy  blankets,  all 
the  products  of  her  busy  wheel  and  loom ;  and  the  patchwork 
quilts  and  lamb's-wool  stockings  Avhich  have  employed  her 
leisure  hours.  Such  ever  be  New  England  mothers  and  aunts  ! 

Enter  her  choicely-kept  parlor,  whose  polished  floor,  con 
secrated  to  neatness,  is  seldom  trod  by  sacrilegious  feet.  See 
the  upright  shining  chairs,  and  round  table  made  to  move  on 
hidden  hinges  from  its  horizontal  plane  to  a  vertical  position, 
by  the  side  of  its  tripod  pedestal ;  and  the  looking-glass  of 
curious  frame,  surmounted  with  peacock's  plumage ;  and  the 
fire-set  of  well-polished  brass.  All  have  served  their  stately 
use  for  two  generations,  and  still  are  in  their  fashion's  prime. 
Look  with  reverence  upon  those  oak-framed  pictures  of  hal 
lowed  scenes,  where  Abraham  lifts  the  sacrificial  knife ; 
where  Lot  leaves  the  doomed  city,  and  his  saline  spouse ; 
where  Samson,  with  asinine  weapon,  smites  the  Philistines 
hip  and  thigh ;  and  where  Saul  evokes  the  hoary  witch  of 
Endor.  By  the  side  of  these  triumphs  of  xylographic  art 
hangs  the  genealogical  tree  of  golden  fruit,  inscribed  with  the 
sum  of  all  human  history  —  births,  marriages,  deaths. 

Up  the  narrow  and  angular  flight  of  stairs,  protected  by 
curiously  turned  and  twisted  balustrades,  we  may  pass  to  a 
dainty  chamber  on  cither  hand.  That  one  is  the  spare  cham 
ber,  kept  for  choice  occasions,  and  guests  of  note.  Its  high, 


322  WOLFSDEN. 

smooth  bed  of  gay  patchwork  and  diamond  quilting,  and  all 
its  prim  furniture,  proclaim  the  matron's  care,  and  justify  her 
decent  pride.  Let  us  award  the  praises  due,  and  linger  no 
longer. 

The  opposite  door  opens  upon  a  view  where  we  might  love 
to  linger  long.  The  chamber  is  smaller.  Its  two  windows 
open,  one  toward  the  east,  upon  a  far-extended  view  of  green 
fields,  and  pleasant  valleys,  and  winding  waters,  and  distant 
farms,  and  an  interminable  forest  beyond.  The  other  looks 
towards  the  north,  upon  hills  surmounted  by  mountains,  rising 
higher  and  higher  still,  in  gloomy  grandeur,  to  the  clouds. 

The  neat  and  tasteful  arrangement  of  the  room  shows  it  to 
be  the  favorite  resort  of  a  female  occupant.  A  few  unframed 
paintings  in  water-colors,  and  drawings  in  crayon,  showing 
taste  and  nicety  in  their  execution,  are  pinned  against  the 
walls.  Upon  the  mantel-piece  is  ranged  a  compact  tier  of 
books,  embracing  all  science,  abridged  or  in  full,  from  a,  b, 
c,  to  algebra ;  and  all  religion,  from  the  "  New  England 
Primer  "  to  the  "  Whole  Duty  of  Man ;  "  and  all  literature, 
from  the  "  Ladies'  Looking-glass "  to  the  Lost  Paradise 
of  Milton ;  and  all  romance,  from  Bunyan's  Pilgrim  to 
"  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw."  But  why  detain  the  reader  with 
description  of  these  ?  Because  the  heedless  reader  will  not 
note  them,  when  once  admitted  to  behold  the  fair  occupant  of 
this  favored  room. 

The  pen  of  history  holds  a  magic  power.  At  its  "  open 
sesame  "  the  secret  chambers  are  disclosed.  Softly  let  ua 
enter,  lest  we  disturb  the  genius  of  the  quiet  place. 

She  sits  at  her  table  absorbed  in  thought.  Her  light  basket, 
filled  with  various  implements  and  patterns  of  female  indus 
try,  is  laid  aside.  The  fair  hand  rests  upon  the  snowy  page, 


WOLFSDEN.  323 

where  she  traces  lines  so  delicate  that  they  scarce  soil  its  white 
ness.  The  face  is  eloquent  with  thought,  more  beautiful 
than  words.  Are  you  a  phrenologist  ?  Admire  that  head  ! 
How  the  delighted  fingers  measure  those  organs  replete  with 
everything  that  is  witty,  and  delicate,  and  wise,  and  benevo 
lent,  and  reverential,  and  self-reliant,  and  just,  and  kind,  and 
true !  Fowler  might  here  afford,  without  price,  the  flattering 
"  chart  "  which  he  sells  to  others  for  money  ;  for  its  truthful 
ness  would  soothe  his  too  often  tried  conscience.  Are  you  no 
phrenologist  ?  Then  look  upon  her  face,  and  let  your  eyes 
read  with  rapture  that  heaven-impressed  page  of  virgin 
beauty,  love,  and  truth.--  She  seems  absorbed  in  thought. 
Poetic  images  crowd  upon  her  active  brain.  Slowly  she 
ranges  them  in  order,  and  marshals  them  in  verses,  pensive, 
plaintive,  even  mournful,  yet,  like  herself,  sweet  in  their 
sadness. 

"  I  'm  weary  of  this  weary  world,  I  'in  weary  of  its  grief ; 
My  sickened  spirit  turns  away,  and  vainly  seeks  relief  ; 
In  vain,  in  vain  I  seek  for  peace,  in  vain  I  pray  to  know 
If  pure,  unsullie'd  happiness  dwells  in  this  vale  of  woe  ; 
My  wounded  soul  can  find  no  joy,  no  healing  balm,  to  stay 
The  deep  and  fearful  gush  of  griefs  that  on  my  spirit  weigh.  • 
On  through  the  dim,  dark  dreariness  of  coming  shadowy  years, 
My  fancy  roves,  and  meets  a  waste  —  a  wilderness  of  fears  ; 
So  dark,  so  drear,  that  death's  dread  vale  to  me  would  be  more  sweet, 
And  all  the  terrors  of  the  tomb  I  would  not  fear  to  meet. 

"  One  voice  is  wanting  to  my  ear,  —  one  deep,  low,  silvery  voice, 
To  breathe  its  tones  of  music  out,  and  bid  my  heart  rejoice  ; 
One  glance  forth  from  that  flashing  eye,  to  chase  away  my  night, 
One  glance  of  love  ;   0,  would  it  not  o'erwhcltn  mo  in  its  light  ! 
To  hear  love's  own  sweet  language  fall  from  his  clear  lips  on  me  ! 
Peace,  peace,  my  fondly-picturing  heart !  —  it  is  but  mockery. 
It  may  not  be,  it  cannot  be,  for  '  woman's  lot '  is  thine  ; 
Concealment  shall  feed  on  thy  cheek,  and  thou  in  sorrow  pine. 


324  WOLFSDEN. 

"  Cannot  I  bid  my  heart  be  free  ?  Will  not  my  woman's  pride 

Come  now,  in  its  o'ermastering  strength,  my  wasted  love  to  hide  ? 

Shall  all  the  gushing  tenderness  which  others  sought  to  wake 

Come  rushing  from  unfathomed  depths,  with  its  own  weight  to  break  ? 

I  will  not  yield  me  up  to  dreams  ;   my  spirit  shall  not  bow 

In  tame  submission  to  a  spell  his  heart  can  never  know. 

I  will  awake  my  slumbering  soul  ;  I  will  again  be  free, 

And  change  into  forgetfulncss  all  my  idolatry  ; 

Xo  flush  shall  deepen  on  my  brow,  no  trembling  seize  my  frame, 

When  from  the  gay  and  heartless  throng  I  hear  his  own  loved  name. 

"  'T  is  vain  !  I  wreathe  my  face  in  joy,  and  teach  my  lip  to  smile, 
But,  0  !  my  saddened,  aching  heart  seerns  bursting  all  the  while  ; 
For  sorrow's  wasting  blight  has  found  its  way  into  my  heart, 
And  now  hope's  budding  visions  fade,  youth's  morning  dreams  depart; 
And  the  bright,  sunny  smile  of  joy,  that  on  my  cheek  should  bloom, 
Has  given  place  to  sorrow's  sigh,  the  gushing  tear  of  gloom  ; 
And  joyous  glances  of  the  eye,  that  once  could  flash  with  mirth, 
Have  gone,  and  tell  in  quenched  beams  how  fade  the  joys  of  earth. 

"  They  tell  me  I  am  beautiful,  and  speak  to  me  of  love  ; 

But  life  too  early  lost  its  charm  —  their  praises  cannot  move  ; 
I  listen  to  the  honeyed  words  they  breathe  into  my  ear,  — 
They  fall  like  Afric's  parched  sands  on  the  wild  desert  drear. 
I  listen,  and  I  smile,  perchance,  or  wipe  a  tear  away  ; 
0,  might  the  hope  of  that  blest  world,  unsullied  by  decay, 
Buoy  my  sad  soul  above  this  gloom,  above  this  earthly  strife, 
And  bid  me  plume  my  fainting  wings  for  realms  of  endless  life  !  " 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 


THUS  the  fair  Margaret,  in  life's  bright  morning,  meditated 
and  mournfully  mused.  And  thus,  full  often,  the  sensitive 
soul,  as  yet  knowing  nothing  of  the  hard  ways  and  heavy 
burthens  of  earnest  life,  faints  ere  the  early  dew  is  dried 
from  its  morning  path  of  flowers.  Soothe  your  sorrows,  ye 
sensitive  souls  !  Your  appointed  duties  and  destinies  may 
not  thus  be  evaded,  nor  can  you  as  yet  "  plume  your  fainting 
wings  for  realms  of  endless  life."  You  must  learn  to  bear 
bravely,  and  strongly  strive.  Your  strength  and  faith  must 
be  increased  by  patient  use,  till  your  power  shall  be  greater 
than  your  burthens,  and  you  shall  walk  in  your  appointed 
way  without  weariness,  and  run  with  unfainting  speed.  So 
shall  you  fairly  aspire  to  nobler  destinies,  and  plume  your 
stronger  wings  for  realms  of  endless  life. 

The  fair  Margaret  sat  and  meditated,  and  mournfully 
mused.  A  slight  knock,  and  her  lovely  cousin  Frances 
entered.  Her  cheeks  glowed  with  exercise,  and  her  eyes 
shone  with  intelligence.  The  fair  friends  embraced,  and 
kissed.  Thus  with  sweet  affection  do  angels  meet. 

"  Come,"  said  Fanny,  "  I  have  come  for  you  to  take  tea 
with  us.  A  friend  has  come.  I  was  forbidden  to  tell  whom, 
but  you  are  wanted  to  make  us  all  perfectly  happy.  Don't 
28 


326  WOLFSDEN. 

ask  who  ;  it  will  be  a  pleasant  surprise,  and,  besides,  it  is  so 
agreeably  provoking  not  to  know,  and  to  guess  wrong,  and  to 
anticipate  and  be  disappointed  !  But  it  is  somebody  who  will 
be  delighted  to  see  you,  and  whom  you  will  be  delighted  to 
see,  unless  you  are  more  unlike  me  and  every  other  girl  than 
I  guess.  So  make  haste,  there  's  a  good  cousin  !  And  put 
on  your  prettiest  things  ;  but  not  too  particular,  —  look 
pretty,  but  not  yrand." 

Margaret  soon  started  off  with  her  lively  and  lovely  cousin. 
She  seemed  not  at  all  "  weary  of  this  weary  world."  How 
poets  deal  in  fiction  !  Her  step  was  light  and  elastic,  and 
her  countenance  rivalled  her  cousin's  in  radiant  and  joyful 
beauty. 

"  There  they  are,  coming  to  meet  us  !  "  said  Fanny,  while 
yet  half  their  way  was  before  them. 

Surely  enough,  they  were  coming.  Billy  and  Tommy, 
escorting  somebody.  Who  could  it  be  ?  It  was  not  Alek, 
—  not  so  tall  and  not  so  stout,  but  more  graceful.  Who 
could  be  that  somebody  ? 

Billy  and  Tommy  seemed  quite  at  home  with  somebody. 
Somebody  seemed  giving  lessons  in  oratory  to  Billy  and 
Tommy ;  for  Tommy  would  mount  upon  a  bank,  and  stretch 
forth  his  hand  and  put  forward  his  foot,  apparently  in  the  ex 
ordium  of  a  speech ;  and  then  somebody  would  seem  to  cor 
rect  him,  and  show  how  to  do  it  better,  by  advancing  his 
foot  not  quite  so  far,  and  stretching  forth  his  hand  more 
moderately.  And  then  Tommy  would  begin  again  upon  the 
improved  model  ;  and  then  Billy  would  mount,  and  show 
how  he  could  do  it.  They  were  evidently  practising  ora 
tory,  —  perhaps  for  the  coming  occasion.  Who  was  some 
body? 


WOLFSDEN.  d27 

Margaret  looked  earnestly  at  somebody,  and  then  inquir 
ingly  at  Fanny,  —  but  Fanny  was  dummy. 

And  so  they  loitered  and  lingered  lovingly  along.  Mar 
garet  seemed  now  the  tired  one,  —  at  least,  so  Fanny  thought. 
She  seemed  to  hesitate  about  proceeding  at  all.  She  seemed 
even  to  meditate  turning  back.  But  she  did  not  turn  back ; 
only  she  turned  aside  and  plucked  fern  twigs,  and  wild  briers, 
and  seemed  discomposed,  and  did  not  look  at  Fanny  while 
speaking;  and  Fanny  asked  her  if  she  was  well.  Margaret 
answered  yes,  and  came  and  gave  her  hand  to  Fanny.  Her 
hand  was  cold,  and  her  clasp  tighter  than  usual,  as  if  nerved 
by  resolute  effort ;  and  they  went  on  to  meet  the  boys  and  — 
somebody. 

As  they  approached,  Tommy  and  Billy,  earnest  with  tid 
ings,  like  Cushi  and  Amihaaz  the  son  of  Zadok,  outran  each 
other  to  announce  the  already  very  obvious  fact  that 

"  Harry  Boynton  has  come,  and  we  are  having  a  famous 
time ! " 

"  My  name  is  Norval  on  the  Grampian  hills  ! "  shouted 
Tommy,  hurriedly,  that  he  might  be  the  first  to  show  his 
improved  oratory.  But  Billy  interrupted  him. 

"  No,  that 's  not  right.  Look  !  "  and,  placing  himself  ora- 
torically,  he  spoke  on  the  improved  model  : 

"  My  name  is  Norval !  on  the  Grampian  hills  "  — 
By  this  time  their  oratorical  oracle,  Harry  Boynton,  had 
come  up.  The  onset  of  the  boys  had  broken  the  ice  of  form 
ality  and  the  spell  of  embarrassment,  and  Margaret  gave 
her  hand  to  Harry,  and  welcomed  him  with  self-possessed 
grace.  But  she  saw  in  a  moment,  for  she  read  it  in  his 
sparkling  eyes,  and  deep  voice,  and  tremulous  lips,  that  he 
loved  her — (let  woman  alone  for  that ! ) — and  she  knew  that  he 


328  WOLFSDEN. 

• 

had  come  to  tell  her  of  his  love ;  and  she  cast  down  her  eyes, 
that  no  one  should  see  the  joy  which  gladdened  them ;  and 
she  looked  and  spoke  at  the  boys,  that  no  one  should  see  how 
the  red  suffused  her  cheeks. 

"  But,"  said  she,  "  he  shall  not  know  that  I  love  him,  nor 
think  me  too  easily  won."  And  so  she  schooled  herself  to 
cool  dignity  and  formal  decorum,  and  wondered  how  he  would 
proceed,  and  when  he  would  propose. 

Fanny  suspected  something  of  the  truth.  There  is  a  sym 
pathy  of  intelligence  between  hearts  entwined  in  sisterly  love, 
and  each  shares  the  other's  secret  thoughts.  Besides,  Harry, 
who  arrived  the  previous  evening,  had  that  morning  a  long 
and  private  conversation  with  Helen,  who,  shortly  afterward, 
requested  her  to  invite  Margaret,  and  cautioned  her  not  to 
tell  who  was  the  visitor.  And  so  Fanny's  curiosity  stimulated 
her  sagacity  to  suspect  something. 

There  was  in  Wolfsden  at  that  time  what  is  there  called  a 
reformation.  In  other  places  the  like  is  called  a  revival. 
We  cannot  give  a  perfect  account  of  Wolfsden  without  in 
cluding  its  "  reformations."  They  occur  sometimes  twice  or 
thrice  in  a  year,  and  sometimes  but  once  in  two  or  three 
years.  Generally  they  are  local,  —  in  the  east  or  west  or 
north  or  south  part  of  the  town, — but  sometimes  they  spread, 
or  occur  in  different  quarters  simultaneously,  so  as  to  include 
the  whole  town.  The  philosophy  of  these  movements  is  not 
settled.  Like  other  phenomena  of  society,  they  are  the  result 
of  general  laws,  whose  operations  maybe  traced  in  all  nations 
and  ages.  The  solemn  feasts  and  jubilees  of  the  Jews  ;  the 
idolatrous  festivals  and  processions  of  Egypt ;  the  eleusinian 
mysteries  of  Greece  ;  the  pagan  saturnalia  and  Catholic  car 
nivals  of  Rome ;  the  Mahometan  pilgrimages ;  the  frenzies 


WOLFSDEN.  329 

of  oriental  devotees,  and  the  superstitious  juggleries  of 
heathen  tribes,  all  are  manifestations  of  the  soul's  spiritual 
affinities,  struggling  for  higher  associations.  Among  the  most 
ignorant  and  debased  the~only  result  is  wild  disorder,  folly, 
and  cruelty ;  among  the  enlightened,  a  true  and  fervid  piety 
is  sometimes  unduly  stimulated  and  misled  by  emotional  ex 
citement,  and  the  religion  which  should  be  as  a  river  of  life, 
nourishing  and  beautifying  its  borders,  with  equal  flow,  is  a 
tide  of  uncertain  motions,  now  inundating  its  shores,  and  now 
leaving  bare  its  barren  sands.  Instead  of  being,  like  Chris 
tian's  roll,  a  support  and  guide  on  hills  of  difficulty,  and  over 
the  enchanted  grounds  of  temptation,  and  through  the  valley 
of  the  shadow  of  death,  it  tempts  to  by-paths  and  short  pas 
sages,  which  look  toward  the  celestial  city,  but  lead  to  the 
dark  mountains  of  stumbling. 

The  periodical  religious  excitements,  or  "reformations,"  of 
Wolfsden,  often  produced  good  fruit,  —  twenty,  sixty,  and 
some  an  hundred  fold ;  but  many  of  the  converts  relapsed, 
so  that,  though  one  fifth  or  sixth  of  the  population  was  con 
verted  annually,  yet  each  successive  reformation  found  as  much 
to  do  as  the  preceding.  Yet,  except  so  far  as  they  might 
prevent  something  better,  they  were  not  unprofitable  efforts. 
It  is  better  that  men  should  be  awakened  to  their  immortal 
interests,  though  ever  so  rudely,  than  that  they  should  still 
sleep  in  the  stupor  of  sin ;  for  of  the  many  awakened  a  few 
are  saved. 

One  of  the  series  of  meetings  was  to  be  held  this  evening 
at  the  school-house  before  referred  to,  in  Deacon  Arbor's 
district.  Elder  Kraken,  a  great  reformation  minister,  was 
expected  to  preach.  Apart  from  the  attractions  of  a  famous 
minister,  it  was  the  duty  of  the  people  of  the  district  to 
28* 


330  WOLESDEN. 

assemble  and  fill  the  house.  This,  and  another  good  motive, 
led  Helen  to  encourage  the  proposition  to  attend  the  meet 
ing  ;  and,  therefore,  after  tea,  she  and  Margaret,  and  Fanny, 
and  Harry,  and  the  boys,  went  over  to  the  school-house. 

The  services  began  at  early  candle-lighting,  and  they  ar 
rived  as  the  people  were  collecting.  Elder  Kraken  soon 
made  his  appearance.  He  was  a  man  advanced  in  years, 
yet  still  in  the  full  vigor  of  his  powers.  His  head  was  a 
little  bald,  and  well  constructed  for  his  calling.  The  organs 
of  benevolence,  firmness,  reverence,  self-esteem,  ideality,  and 
combativeness,  were  well  developed,  giving  that  combina 
tion  which  is  favorable  to  fervent  devotion  and  fearless  zeal, 
and  to  which  his  vigorous  bodily  powers  gave  full  effect. 
His  preaching  was  earnest,  and  in  its  way  eloquent,  though 
rather  dogmatical  in  tenets,  and  very  barbarous  in  style,  — 
being  full  of  the  idioms,  technical  terms,  uncouth  words,  fig 
urative  phrases,  and  peculiar  expressions,  which  make  up  the 
dialect  that  many  persons  think  necessary  for  the  expression 
of  religious  sentiments. 

So  remarkably  was  his  preaching  moulded  in  that  style, 
that  Harry  was  often  puzzled  to  translate  his  meaning,  and 
was  amused  when  he  should  have  been  impressed.  Yet  he 
listened  with  becoming  seriousness,  which  was  the  more  favor 
ably  interpreted  by  the  observing  minister,  as  he  had  by  acci 
dent  taken  one  of  the  seats  appropriated  to  the  converts,  and 
those  "  under  conviction." 

After  the  sermon  and  other  exercises,  the  meeting  took  the 
form  of  an  "  inquiry  meeting,"  in  which  the  minister  sepa 
rately  addressed  those  upon  the  seats  where  Harry  sat,  call 
ing  upon  some  whom  he  knew  personally  to  "  speak  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord,"  and  addressing  exhortations  and  questions 


WOLFSDEN.  331 

to  others.  Harry,  who  observed  the  style  of  answer,  evi 
dently  expected  and  duly  repeated,  was  tolerably  well  pre 
pared  for  the  examination  when  his  turn  came  ;  for  the 
minister  naturally  took  him  for  one  of  the  converts. 

"  Well,  my  young  brother,"  said  the  minister,  "  how  is  the 
state  of  your  mind,  —  has  the  Lord  dealt  bountifully  with 
you  ?  " 

Harry.   Yes,  the  Lord  has  been  very  good  to  me. 

Minister.  Blessed  be  the  Lord  !  And  you  feel  that  the 
filthy  rags  of  your  own  righteousness  are  taken  away  ?  You 
are  washed  and  made  clean  ? 

Harry.   Yes,  I  have  been  washed  and  made  clean. 

Minister.  Glory  to  God !  And  you  are  sure  that  you 
have  a  comfortable  and  well-grounded  hope  ? 

Harry  (thinking  of  Margaret],  The  hope  which  I  have  is 
very  comfortable  ;  but  I  have  some  doubts. 

Minister.  Praise  the  Lord !  Your  doubts  will  soon  be 
swallowed  up  in  faith.  You  mean  to  seek  and  strive  till  you 
obtain  the  promise  ? 

Harry  (still  thinking  of  Margaret}.  Yes ;  that  is  what  I 
came  for. 

Minister.  Amen,  brother  !  Be  of  good  courage,  and  you 
will  get  the  reward  ;  for  you  have  put  on  the  wedding  gar 
ment,  and  put  off  the  old  man  with  his  deeds. 

Harry  (thinking  of  the  minister,  and  very  willing  to  put 
him  off}.  I  hope  so. 

After  the  examination  was  over,  the  minister  requested  all 
about  him  to  kneel,  which  Harry,  with  the  rest,  complied 
with ;  and  after  a  fervent  prayer,  he  shook  hands  with  all, 
giving  them  encouragement  and  exhortation,  arid,  especially 
addressing  Harry,  to  whose  good  -looks  he  took  a  liking,  he 


332  WOLFSDEN. 

bade  him  strive  to  make  his  calling  and  election  sure,  and 
to  contend  earnestly  for  the  prize,  and  the  Lord  would  pros 
per  him. 

Harry  was  much  vexed  to  be  again  made  so  conspicuous 
an  object  of  ministerial  misunderstanding,  which  he  could  not 
well  correct  without  embarrassing  the  important  objects  of 
the  meeting ;  and,  as  they  returned  homeward,  he  observed 
to  Helen  that  the  people  of  Wolfsden  seemed  resolved  to 
make  him  a  saint  in  spite  of  himself. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  he,  "  they  consider  it  a  duty  to  sinners 
'  to  compel  them  to  come  in.'  " 

"The  minister  took  you  for  one  of  the  converts,"  said 
Helen,  "  because  you  took  the  convert's  seat." 

"Then,"  said  Harry,  i<rl  had  better  have  sat  in  the  seat  of 
the  scornful.  However,  I  am  in  the  descending  scale,  and 
shall  soon  find  my  proper  level,  for  they  made  me  a  divinity 
student,  or  perhaps  a  doctor  of  divinity,  formerly.  Probably 
they  mean  to  let  me  down  by  degrees." 

"  O,  you  have  been  ranked  a  reprobate  since  that  time," 
said  Fanny.  "  Mr.  Twangson,  the  heathen  missionary,  ex 
communicated  you  to  save  himself,  some  folks  say." 

"  And  I  have  understood,"  said  Harry,  "  that  he  repre 
sented  me  as  a  deceiver  and  mocker,  which  was  untrue,  for 
I  was  innocent  of  their  blunder.  I  think,"  continued  he, 
"  that  I  must  take  some  opportunity  to  vindicate  myself  in 
this  matter  publicly ;  for,  apart  from  other  considerations,  it 
does  not  suit  my  pride  to  be  ranked  with  hypocrites  or 
scoffers." 

"  I  think  you  may  properly  explain  the  facts  in  some 
conference  meeting,"  said  Helen  ;  "  and,  if  you  do  it 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  .  333 

without  reflecting  severely  upon  others,  it  will  be  well 
received." 

She  then  informed  him  how  he  had,  through  not  knowing 
the  usages  of  the  place,  confirmed  the  report  of  his  religious 
character ;  so  that  Harry  was  able  in  a  future  "  conference 
meeting  "  to  explain  how  certain  mistakes  arose  without  his 
fault,  and  to  rectify  his  position.  This  he  did  in  so  proper 
and  conciliating  a  manner  that  Elder  Kraken  accepted  the 
explanation,  and  only  "  regretted  that  so  talented  a  young 
man  was  not  yet  quite  ready  to  come  up  to  the  help  of  the 
Lord  against  the  mighty." 

Harry  and  Margaret  parted  from  the  rest  of  the  company 
when  they  arrived  at  Deacon  Arbor's,  for  Helen  had  told 
Margaret  that  Harry  wished  to  walk  home  with  her,  and, 
therefore,  she  would  not  invite  her  to  stop  at  her  house.  And 
so  Harry  walked  with  Margaret  alone. 

It  was  a  beautiful  autumnal  evening.  The  moon  played 
bo-peep  between  the  fleeting  silvery  clouds.  A  gentle  breeze 
fanned  the  air.  The  whip-poor-will  from  the  near -grove 
chanted  his  oft-repeated  counsel.  The  cricket  chirruped 
in  the  wall,  and  the  fox  barked  at  intervals  in  the  distant 
forest. 

The  writer  of  this  history  regrets  being  compelled  to  sub 
stitute  these  commonplace  circumstances  for  the  story  which 
the  reader  justly  expects  to  be  told ;  but,  being  uncomprom 
isingly  opposed  to  the  license,  too  often  indulged,  of  invent 
ing  imaginary  incidents  and  sentiments,  when  what  really 
transpired  is  unknown,  he  must  confess  his  ignorance  of 
Harry's  and  Margaret's  conversation  after  they  left  their 
friends  at  Deacon  Arbor's,  or  how  they  beguiled  their  home 
ward  way.  It  may,  however,  be  observed  that  Margaret, 


334  WOLFSDEN. 

though  she  afterwards  indited  many  a  sonnet  in  her  solitude, 
wrote  nothing  more  about  being  "  weary  of  this  weary 
world."  And  as  for  Harry,  it  is  enough  to  say  at  present, 
that  he  did  not  hang  himself,  —  being  reserved  for  another 
destiny. 


CHAPTER     XXIV. 


SIR  MARC  BARCIIIER,  K.B.,  sat  in  the  splendid  saloon  of 
"  Professor  Pericrania,"  proprietor  of, the  "  Emporium  of 
Fashion,"  in  Broadway.  The  long  row  of  stately  chairs  was 
filled  with  incumbents,  upon  whom  the  expert  assistants  and 
students  of  the  presiding  professor  demonstrated  their  tonso- 
rial  talents. 

"  Turn  ! "  said  the  professor,  solemnly,  as  one  of  the  fin 
ished  specimens  of  his  skill  left  the  chair  of  state. 

Sir  Marc  removed  his  glossy  cravat,  turned  down  his  shin 
ing  collar,  and  surrendered  himself  to  the  operator,  who,  with 
the  sure  and  dextrous  skill  which  genius,  aided  by  philosophy 
and  cultivated  by  patient  practice,  can  attain  unto,  with  the 
aid  of  saponaceous  cream,  smooth-gliding  razor,  clicking  scis 
sors,  caloric  curling-tongs,  fragrant  oils,  and  magic  evolutions 
of  brush  and  comb,  at  last  put  the  finishing  touch  upon  the 
noblest  part  of  the  knight's  noble  structure. 

Along  Broadway,  after  due  acknowledgment  of  the  profess 
or's  aid,  the  knight  proceeded.  As  he  walked  leisurely  and 
dignifiedly  adown  that  fashionable  avenue,  sometimes  glanc 
ing  superciliously  upon  the  humble  crowd  of  plodders  in  life's 
lowly  vale,  or  nodding  graciously  upon  the  aristocratic  occu 
pants  of  proudly-passing  coaches,  what  friend  of  humanity, 


0 

336  VTOLFSDEN. 

observing  the  vast  disparity  between  mortals  of  one  common 
mould,  but  would  sigh  that  fortune  should  make  such  wide 
distinctions  among  men,  endowing  some  from  birth  with  the 
golden  spoon  of  pride  and  luxury,  and  others  with  the  wooden 
ladle  of  poverty  and  debasement? 

His  hair,  perfumed  and  shining,  was  surmounted  by  a  hat 
of  Genin's  latest  style.  His  glossy  whiskers  and  mustaches 
curled  and  shone  with  redundant  oil.  His  shirt  of  resplen 
dent  whiteness  was  adorned  with  diamond  studs.  A  magnif 
icent  breast-pin  glittered  upon  his  bosom.  The  tie  of  his 
cravat  would  have  won  an  approving  nod  from  Brummel. 
His  vest  of  richest  fabric  was  hung  with  burnished  chains 
of  gold,  giving  security  to  his  sumptuous  watch  and  richly- 
mounted  eye-glass.  His  coat  was  cut  by  Swell,  and  his  pan 
taloons  by  Strutt.  His  French  boots  were  imported  by 
Crimpp,  and  his  kids  supplied  by  Fripp.  His  ebony  cane 
was  the  present  of  a  duke,  and  his  rings  the  gifts  of  duch 
esses,  countesses,  and  ladies  fair  of  high  degree.  His  stature 
was  massive  and  imposing.  His  eyebrows  were  bushy,  and 
if  his  nose  was  somewhat  snub,  his  prominent  cheeks  made 
full  amends.  Unassuming  men  turned  aside  to  give  him 
room.  Languishing  ladies  looked  up  with  pleased  approval  ; 
and  saucy  news-boys  vulgarly  shouted,  "  There  goes  a 
swell ! " 

lie  moved  along  the  thronged  way,  as  some  proud  bark 
laden  with  the  costly  tribute  of  foreign  climes  is  borne  ma 
jestically,  with  full-spread  sails  and  pennons  flying,  through 
fleets  of  petty  fishermen  and  other  ignominious  craft  that 
infest  the  ocean. 

Arrived  at  the  Astor  House,  he  stood  a  while  beneath  its 
massive  porJico,  among  others  of  like  lofty  bearing,  and 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  .  337 

leisurely  scanned  the  passers-by  ;  sometimes  tapping  his 
polished  snuff-box,  *>r  twirling  the  pendent  seals  of  his 
watch. 

Soon  a  well-known  person  ascended  the  steps,  and,  with  a 
significant  look,  entered  the  hotel.  -The  gallant  knight  fol 
lowed  him.  They  ascended  different  flights  of  stairs,  and: 
with  a  turn  of  a  key  entered  a  private  and  well-furnished 
chamber.  The  well-known  person  threw  himself  upon  the 
sofa,  and  motioned  the  knight  to  a  chair. 

The  well-known  person  was  Fitz-Faun.  lie  had  decided 
Alek  to  be  incorrigible,  and  had  therefore  resolved  to  turn 
him  over  to  Sir  Marc ;  and  he  now  dictated  his  instructions 
to  that  chivalrous  knight,  with  Napoleonic  terseness. 

"Anything,"  said  he,  "to  put  him  out  of  my  way  for  a 
few  weeks.  Scuttling  or  stranding,  or  whatever  your  sailor 
lingo  likes,  so  it, be  effectual.  Some  splintered  ribs,  or  a 
broken  nose,  or  an  eye  spoiled,  or  any  other  decided  disfig 
urement  or  disablement,  that  will  keep  him  in  limbo  long 
enough,  will  do.  But  manage  it  so  as  to  swear  the  blame  on 
him.  I  should  like  to  throw  him  out  of  old  Greening's  confi 
dence.  If  you  can  get  him  to  take  a  glass  of  wine  with  a 
few  drops  of  this  flavoring  in  it  (handing  a  vial),  you  can 
then  manage  him  as  you  like.  He  shirked  it  the  other  even 
ing,  or  he  would  have  been  in  the  watch-house  before  morn 
ing,  and  in  the  Tombs  before  getting  sober.  But  I  put  him 
into  your  mess ;  you  must  have  wit  enough  among  you  to 
manage  him.  But,  mind,  I  am  not  to  be  mixed  up  with  it. 
You  take  the  management  and  risk  for  the  pay." 

Sir  Marc  undertook  the  service  with  alacrity,  being  stim 
ulated  by  the  five  hundred  dollars,  —  half  in  advance.     Less 
sums  have  purchased  baser  services  in  later  times. 
29 


338  WOLFSDEN. 

He  was  well  aware  of  the  principle  involved  in  Mrs.  Glass' 
famous  receipt  for  cooking  a  hare,  whidh  makes  it  requisite 
first  to  catch  a  hare.  The  same  prerequisite  is  indispensable 
to  the  success  of  any  plan  for  "  scuttling  "  young  men.  Sir 
Marc  planned  his  enterprise  with  due  regard  to  first  prin 
ciples. 

He  requested  Fitz-Faun  to  write  to  Mr.  Arbor,  in  his 
name,  a  card  of  invitation  to  his  rooms  in  the  Howard 
House,  that  afternoon  at  six  o'clock,  observing  that  his  own 
hand  was  a  little  cramped. 

Fitz-Faun,  with  a  contemptuous  look,  took  paper  and 
wrote : 

"  Sir  Marc  Barchicr,  K.B.,  snob  ly  profession,  blackley 
and  cut-throat  ly  practice,  invites  A.  Arbor  to  his  rooms  at 
Howard  House,  this  evening  at  six  o'clock,  haviny  a  design  to 
scuttle  him." 

"  Will  this  answer  ? "  said  Fitz-Faun,  handing  him  the 
note. 

Sir  Marc,  whom  nature  had  not  gifted  with  the  art  of 
reading,  but  who  made  it  a  point  not  to  acknowledge  the 
deficiency,  took  the  paper,  and,  glancing  over  it,  approved  it, 
and  requested  Fitz-Faun  to  direct  it.  Fitz-Faun  laughed  at 
this  detection  of  the  knight's  ignorance  ;  and,  tearing  up  the 
note,  wrote  another  to  the  effect  that  "  Sir  Marc  Barchier, 
K.B.,  would  be  happy  to  receive  A.  Arbor,  Esq.,  at  his 
rooms  in  Howard  House,  this  evening  at  six  o'clock  ;  or,  if 
the  appointment  should  interfere  with  other  engagements,  at 
such  other  time  as  Mr.  Arbor  might  appoint."  Calling  a 

rvaut,  he  sent  the  letter,  directing  the  messenger  to  wait 
or  an  answer. 

In  due  time  the  messenger  returned  with  a  note  to  the 


WOLFSDEX.  339 

effect  that  Mr.  Arbor  would  wait  upon  Sir  Marc  at  the  hour 
appointed. 

It  should  be  explained  that  Sir  Marc  (whom  the  reader 
already  recognizes  as  the  reprobate  son  of  old  Bang)  knew 
Alek  very  well ;  at  first  from  his  name,  and  afterward  more 
certainly  by  ascertaining  from  whence  he  came.  But  he  sup 
posed  his  own  disguise  too  perfect  for  detection  by  one  whom 
he  remembered  but  as  a  mere  child  at  the  time  of  his  own 
flight  from  Wolfsden. 

Eitz-Faun,  after  reading  Alek's  note  to  Sir  Marc,  told 
him  that,  now  he  had  put  the  game  in  his  hands,  he  would 
dismiss  him  with  the  exhortation  not  to  let  the  pigeon  again 
escape. 

Sir  Marc  returned  to  his  room  to  prepare  for  the  expected 
pigeon.  At  the  appointed  hour  Alek  appeared,  accompanied 
by  Mr.  Edward  Clevis,  and  they  were  shown  to  Sir  Marc's 
room.  Sir  Marc  was  unpleasantly  surprised  to  see  two  gen 
tlemen,  when  he  expected  but  one ;  and  still  more,  as  they 
looked  rather  too  self-possessed  and  business-like  for  his  pur 
pose,  and  too  little  like  pigeons  come  to  be  plucked. 

Sir  Marc,  however,  welcomed  them  with  extreme  cordiality, 
and  invited  them  to  seats;  which,  to  his  further  surprise,  they 
declined. 

"  We  have  come,"  said  Alek,  looking  Sir  Marc  in  the  face, 
and  speaking  deliberately,  "  not  to  accept  your  hospitality, 
but  because  we  have  business  with  you.  My  name  is  Alex 
ander  Arbor,  commonly  called  Alek.  Wolfsden  is  my  na 
tion,  and  Neiv  York  is  my  station,  and  you  know  my  occu 
pation*  Your  name  is  Mark  Barker,  of  Wolfsden,  aforesaid, 

*  Alek  partly  quotes  from  a  rustic  rhyme,  well  known  in  Wolfsden  and 
elsewhere  iu  New  England. 


340  W  0  L  F  S  D  K  N  . 

and  your  occupation  is  also  perfectly  well  known  to  me.  I 
have  come  to  let  you  know  that  I  am  not  the  man  you  want. 
If  I  prove  to  be  the  man  you  don't  want,  it  will  be  your  own 
fault.  I  shall  not  go  out  of  my  way  to  trouble  an  old  towns 
man,  but  I  am  prepared  for  emergencies.  I  shall  not  expose 
myself  unguardedly  ;  and  if,  unawares,  any  accident  should 
befall  me  from  an  unknown  source,  you  will  be  held  accounta 
ble,  for  I  have  already  given  your  history  and  my  suspicions 
to  one  or  two  prompt  friends,  and  to  one  of  the  police.  I 
will  only  add  that  in  my  opinion  this  city  will  not  henceforth 
be  the  safest  sphere  of  your  operations  ;  and  with  this  hint 
I  bid  you  a  very  good-night." 

With  these  words  and  a  ceremonious  bow,  the  friends  de 
parted.  Sir  Marc  attempted  no  reply,  nor  even  moved  his 
position  till  the  echo  of  their  footsteps  had  ceased.  He  then 
went  to  the  window,  threw  open  the  sash,  and  gazed  out  as 
if  consulting  the  aspects  of  the  stars,  or  the  state  of  the 
weather.  Then  he  took  a  glass  of  brandy  and  water,  as  an 
aid  to  reflection,  —  and  reflected. 

"  This  is  what  I  call  a  clumsy  piece  of  business,"  solilo 
quized  he,  repeating  the  words  in  which  he  expressed  his 
opinion  on  the  former  occasion  of  Alek's  escape.  "  A  darned 
clumsy  piece  of  business  !  —  '  Not  the  man  1  want ! '  Pretty 
true  that.  '  Thinks  I  had  better  be  off,''  eh  ?  Not  a  bad 
notion.  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  don't  think  so  myself.  Things 
look  squally.  We  must  stand  out  for  sea-room. 

"  But,  then,  we  must  look  this  matter  on  all  sides.  First, 
there  's  Fitz-Faun.  I  'ye  got  his  check  for  two  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars,  and  want  the  balance.  If  I  had  the  knack  of 
the  pen,  I  'd  alter  the  check  and  make  it  look  a  little  more 
generous,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  upholding  Fitz-Faun's  liber- 


WOLFSDEX.  34l 

ality.  The  schoolmaster  told  me  I  should  some  day  regret 
neglecting  my  learning,  and  I  feel  the  truth  of  his  remark 
when  I  get  a  bit  of  paper  like  this,  that  needs  doctoring  and 
I  can't  doctor  it.  However,  Fitz-Faun  shall  do  it  for  me. 
I  '11  get  up  some  pretence.  If  I  can't  pluck  a  pigeon,  I  '11 
pluck  a  hawk. 

"  And  then  there  's  my  Messalina.  How  she  '11  take  on 
when  I  take  myself  off !  But  I  must  leave  her,  for  I  can't 
afford  to  take  her.  She 's  too  expensive,  and  needs  too 
much  watching.  Besides,  if  I  don't  jilt  her,  she  '11  jilt  me 
the  first  opportunity  ;  and  I  '11  save  her  the  trouble  by  doing 
it  myself. 

"  Then  there  's  some  other  little  affairs.  Money  and 
trinkets  to  borrow,  tailor's  and  jeweller's  bills  to  run  up,  and 
other  little  speculations  that  I  have  deferred,  to  save  my 
reputation,  for  bigger  hauls.  But,  if  I  must  be  off,  I  '11  use 
up  my  credit  before  I  go.  It 's  an  extravagance  I  can  t 
afford,  to  leave  a  good  name  behind,  when  I  may  as  well  dis 
pose  of  it  and  pocket  the  proceeds. 

"  But  where  shall  I  go  ?  —  Into  the  smuggling  business 
again,  or  back  to  Carolina  and  into  the  nigger  speculation, 
as  Bob  Cantwell  proposed  ?  Cute  dog,  that  Cantwell !  He  'd 
steal  a  nigger  or  eat  one  for  ten  dollars,  but  I  've  a  little  too 
much  conscience  for  that.  I  got  sick  of  the  business  when  I 
sailed  from  Boston  in  that  ship.  To  see  the  poor  nigger 
whimpering  and  pining  all  the  way,  and  then  the  cutting  up 
they  gave  him  when  they  got  him  to  Charleston.  Jt  rather 
stuck  in  my  crop.  But  I  think  I  am  not  so  soft-hearted 
now,  since  I  've  heard  Scripture  for  it.  'T  is  n't  so  bad,  aftei 
all,  sending  off  a  darned  nigger,  as  if 't  were  one's  own  mother. 
That  I  would  n't  do.  As  for  sons  and  brothers,  they  sell  them 
29* 


342  WOLFSDEN. 

off  every  day  at  the  south,  and  I  s'pose  I  might  get  used  to  it. 
I  hope  I  'in  not  such  a  reprobate  as  not  to  profit  by  the  good 
preaching  I  've  been  hearing." 

Fitz-Faun  met  Sir  Marc  the  next  day. 

"  All  right !  "  said  Sir  Marc.  "  This  Alek  is  a  jollier 
fellow  than  \ve  took  him  for.  We  took  wine  together,  but 
left  out  the  flavoring.  I  was  not  quite  ready  for  operations. 
I  want  to  get  his  full  confidence.  I  understood  you  to  prefer 
that  he  should  ruin  himself,  if  he  would  do  it  effectually.  I 
prefer  it  also,  for  it  involves  no  risk  ;  and  now  that  I  have 
sounded  him,  I  know  how  to  do  it.  He  let  me  into  a  little 
secret  last  night.  He  has  got  a  mistress  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  and  wants  money.  By  the  way,  you  must  come 
down  a  little  more  liberally,  if  it 's  only  by  way  of  loan.  I 
want  to  let  him  accidentally  see  me  overhauling  a  few  large 
bank-notes,  just  to  convince  him  of  my  ability  to  put  him  in 
a  way  of  doing  the  like.  I've  a  scheme,  —  the  same  that 
did  young  Clodpole ;  —  this  fellow  is  greener  than  Clodpole, 
and,  besides,  he  's  in  for  it  a  considerable  already." 

Fitz-Faun,  who  had  full  confidence  in  Sir  Marc's  ability  in 
the  line  of  his  profession,  and  who  had  his  own  reasons,  since 
the  flight  of  Erycina,  for  crediting  the  report  of  Alek's  hav 
ing  an  expensive  mistress,  was  deceived  by  Sir  Marc's  plau 
sibility,  and  gave  him  a  new  check  for  five  hundred  dollars, 
which  the  knight  fook  care  to  get  cashed  as  soon  as  possible. 
And,  having  finished  sundry  other  little  speculations,  by  way 
of  turning  his  credit  into  cash,  he  informed  his  landlord  that 
he  might  not  return  till  next  week,  and  so  took  his  departure 
for  parts  unknown. 

When  Fitz-Faun,  after  some  days'  delay,  became  aware  of 
the  knight's  delinquency,  he  was  shocked  at  the  baseness  and 


WOLFSDEN.  343 

depravity  of  mankind,  which,  in  his  first  indignation,  he  pro 
nounced  without  parallel  ;  but,  afterward  reflecting  upon 
Erycina's  flight,  he  matched  it  with  the  falsity  and  treachery 
of  womankind,  and,  like  Byron,  sighed  that  his  own  true 
heart  so  ill  deserved  the  fate  it  found. 

"Strange,"  said  he,  "that  the  two  trusted  friends  whom  I 
relied  upon  to  serve  me  in  this  matter  have  successively 
betrayed  my  confidence  !  " 

Like  Napoleon,  his  great  archetype,  when  informed  of  his 
favorite  Moreau's  defection,  he  was  more  pained  by  the  per 
fidy  than  disheartened  by  the  loss. 

He  now  resolved  to  bring  his  own  invincible  genius  to  the 
task,  and,  having  maturely  reflected  upon  the  hidden  springs 
of  human  action,  he  concluded  that  Alek  probably  had  not 
involved  himself  with  Erycina,  but  was  playing  for  a  more 
profitable  prize.  He  again  gave  to  the  ambitious  Yankee 
the  credit  of  being  a  shrewd,  circumspect,  designing  fellow, 
who  would  do  his  best  to  obtain  the  beautiful  Sophia,  and 
thus  secure  to  himself  present  enjoyment  and  future  solid 
advantages,  —  a  scheme  which  his  evident  good  standing 
with  the  old  gentleman  made  very  possible.  If  he  himself, 
therefore,  could  by  any  means  get  possession  of  that  young 
lady,  he  would  thus  thwart  and  punish  Alek  (whose  pre 
sumption  in  pitying  him  and  out-generaling  him  deserved 
punishment),  and  would  gratify  his  own  wishes  at  the  same 
time. 

To  this  end  he  devoted  his  talents ;  and,  after  several 
weeks'  assiduity,  Fortune,  the  patroness  of  the  persevering 
brave,  gave  him  a  golden  opportunity,  which,  with  praise 
worthy  promptitude,  he  instantly  seized.  It  happened  that 
he  met  the  fair  Sophia  unattended,  as  the  was  returning  from 


344  WOLFSDEN. 

a  short  walk,  and,  joining  her,  he  pleaded  his  own  cause  so 
successfully,  that  the  generous-hearted  and  somewhat  senti 
mental  young  lady  agreed  to  come  out  alone  the  next  day, 
and  meet  him  at  a  fashionable  place  of  resort. 

Sophia,  observant  of  the  promise  exacted  from  her,  made 
no  report  of  her  interview  with  Fitz-Faun,  and  went  out  to 
meet  him  the  next  day  without  giving  notice  of  her  depart 
ure,  fully  intending  to  return  in  an  hour  at  farthest.  She 
met  Fitz-Faun,  and  he  told  her  all  the  cherished  hopes  and 
wishes  of  his  true  heart,  and  vowed  eternal  constancy.  He 
lamented  that  the  unfounded  prejudices  of  her  father,  whom 
he  highly  honored,  should  preclude  the  hope  of  getting  his 
immediate  consent ;  but,  if  she  would  give  him  any  hope, 
however  distant,  it  should  be  the  leading  star  of  his  life,  and 
prompt  him  to  every  efibrt  for  conciliating  the  fathers  favor, 
and  ultimately  gaining  his  consent. 

*His  honeyed  phrases  fell  sweetly  on  the  believing  maiden's 
ear.  She  knew  Fitz-Faun  to  belong  to  the  highest  circles  of 
fashion,  with  riches,  elegance,  accomplishments,  and  every 
outward  advantage  to  support  his  pretensions  ;  and  he  as 
sured  and  convinced  her  that  the  reports  which  had  preju 
diced  her  father  were  groundless,  fabricated  by  his  enemies, 
or  imagined  by  others  on  no  better  grounds  than  the  innocent 
gayety  which  sometimes  disregards  grave  conventionalities. 
He  acknowledged  his  former  indiscreetness  in  trifles,  but 
averred  that  since  he  had  become  older  he  had  learned  to 
place  a  proper  value  upon  outside  appearances,  as  well  as 
inward  virtue.  "  He  had  never  gone  about  to  vindicate  his 
character ;  he  would  not  condescend  do  so,  except  to  her, 
whose  esteem  was  dearer  to  him  than  life.  As  for  others 


WOLFSDEN.  8  45 

his  friends  knew  him  ;  and  even  his  enemies  would,  in  time, 
forget  their  animosity,  and  do  him  justice." 

Nothing  more  effectually  wins  woman's  sympathy  than  the 
complaints  of  injured  innocence.  Sophia  pitied  Fitz-Faun, 
and  pity  is  a  long  step  toward  love.  She  hoped  her  father 
would  learn  to  look  upon  him  favorably.  He  might  count 
upon  her  friendship ;  more  than  that  she  hoped  he  would 
not  require  her  to  say  at  present. 

This  was,  in  fact,  enough  for  the  present  (this  opinion  is 
expressed  for  the  benefit  of  others  in  like  cases) ;  but  Fitz- 
Faun  fancied  that  her  eyes  and  cheeks  said  even  more.  At 
any  rate,  he  meant  they  should. 

Just  then,  by  chance,  the  Miss  Dryades  came  by,  Messa- 
lina  with  another  Dryad  who  had  taken  the  place  of  Ery- 
cina.  Fitz-Faun  rejoiced  to  meet  his  superb  cousins,  and 
introduced  Sophia.  The  young  ladies  were  full  of  good 
spirits  and  good  feeling,  and  immediately  adopted  Sophia  as 
one  of  their  dearest  friends.  At  another  time  she  might 
have  detected  something  equivocal  in  their  appearance ;  but 
her  own  thoughts  were  now  preoccupied  by  an  all-absorbing 
theme,  and  her  instincts  directed  more  to  the  concealment  of 
her  own  emotions  than  to  the  scrutiny  of  others. 

The  young  ladies  explained  that  they  had  come  out  in  the 
coach  with  their  mother,  who  desired  to  call  upon  Bishop 
Onadonky's  lady,  and  while  the  mother  was  making  her  call 
the  daughters  had  driven  round  the  square,  and  were  now 
about  returning.  As  Sophia  was  also  about  to  return  home, 
they  insisted  upon  setting  her  down,  before  returning  for 
their  mother.  Sophia  consented,  and  Fitz-Faun,  "  wishing 
to  improve  the  opportunity  of  a  longer  chat  with  his  cousins," 


346  WOLFSDEN. 

whom  he  protested  he  had  not  seen  for  an  age,  also  entered 
the  coach,  and  they  drove  rapidly  away. 

They  drove  a  long  time.  Sophia  would  have  wondered 
that  they  drove  so  far,  but  her  attention  was  engaged  with 
the  brisk  conversation  of  the  Miss  Dryades,  and  she  forgot 
to  think  of  anything  else.  At  length  the  coach  stopped, 
and  before  a  stately  mansion.  Messalina,  looking  out,  ex 
claimed, 

"  Why,  sister,  here  we  are  at  Bishop  Onadonky's  ;  —  the 
coachman  has  made  a  mistake.  Why,  John,"  continued  she, 
as  the  coachman  opened  the  door,  "  why  did  n't  you  drive 
round  to  Mr.  Greening's  ?  " 

The  coachman  pleaded  that  he  had  received  no  orders. 

"  I  declare  ! "  said  Fitz-Faun,  "  I  must  take  the  blame 
myself,  or  rather  throw  it  upon  the  ladies,  who  were  the 
cause  of  my  forgetfulness.  But  never  mind,  —  John  can 
Urive  us  back  in  a  few  minutes,  and  we  can  have  the  longer 
chat." 

"  Wait  a  while,"  said  Messalina,  "  till  I  run  and  tell 
mother." 

The  sprightly  young  lady  skipped  up  the  marble  steps  of 
the  stately  mansion  of  Bishop  Onadonky,  and  soon  returned, 
saying  that  mother  must  have  the  coach  a  few  minutes  to  be 
set  down  in  the  next  square,  and  that  they  would  all  alight 
and  wait  its  return.  So  they  all  alighted,  and  Sophia  was 
in  a  moment  safely  housed,  —  safely,  as  she  supposed,  in  the 
stately  mansion  of  Bishop  Onadonky  ;  but  really  in  the 
house  to  which  Alek  was  formerly  introduced  as  Count 
Flummery's. 

Sophia  was  introduced  to  a  splendid  drawing-room,  and 
presented  to  the  supposed  lady  of  Bishop  Onadonky.  All 


WOLFSDEN.  347 

were  excessively  delighted  with  Sophia,  and  profuse  in  atten 
tions.  Cake  and  wine  were  presented,  and  the  bishop's  lady 
insisted  upon  her  taking  a  little  of  her  own  favorite  cordial. 
Sophia  had  been  educated  by  her  medicinal  mother  in  the 
duty  of  taking  whatever  remedies,  preventatives,  and  strength- 
eners,  might  be  prescribed ;  and,  though  she  would  rather  not, 
she  took  the  cordial.  It  was  finely  flavored.  In  a  few  min 
utes  she  was  as  lively  as  the  best  of  them.  Her  eyes  spar 
kled  with  animation.  Her  cheeks  glowed  with  excitement. 
Her  gayety  became  excessive.  She  talked,  and  laughed,  and 
sang,  and  heard  Messalina  sing,  and  laughed  at  her  song. 
She  waltzed  about  the  parlor  with  her  and  with  Fitz-Faun. 
She  ran  up  stairs  with  the  charming  counterfeit  daughters  of 
the  Onadonky.  Fitz-Faun  was  already  there.  ****** 
Alas  !  deceived,  betrayed,  lost  Sophia  ! 

It  was  immediately  after  dinner  when  Sophia  left  her 
father's  house.  It  was  tea-time  before  her  absence  was 
known  to  her  mother,  who  was  during  the  intermediate  time 
in  her  own  private  room,  studying  some  descriptions  and  cer 
tificates  of  a  new  medicine  to  purify  the  humors  of  the  blood, 
ventilate  the  vapors  of  the  brain,  and  fortify  female  weak 
nesses.  When  she  found,  upon  inquiry,  that  none  of  the 
domestics  had  seen  Sophia  during  the  afternoon,  she  became 
alarmed.  Mr.  Greening,  soon  coming  in,  soothed  her  with 
the  suggestion  that  she  had  probably  gone  out  with  Augus 
tus,  and  would  soon  return.  They  sat  down  to  tea,  expect 
ing  every  moment  the  return  of  their  children.  Soon  Augus 
tus  came.  He  had  not  seen  his  sister  since  dinner,  but 
laughed  at  the  idea  of  alarm ;  and  they  took  their  tea,  but 
not  with  accustomed  pleasure,  for  she  who  shed  light  and 
beauty  upon  the  repast  was  absent.  After  tea  Mr.  Greening 


o43  WOLFSDEK. 

proposed  to  walk  to  a  neighbor's,  where  Sophia  had  probably 
called,  and  wait  upon  her  home.  It  is  needless  to  say  that 
his  inquiries  there  and  elsewhere  were  fruitless.  The  evening 
wore  on,  and  the  anxiety  of  all  increased.  Some  accident 
had  doubtless  befallen  their  beloved  child.  At  a  late  hour 
application  was  made  to  the  police,  and  every  possible  means 
of  discovery  employed. 

Anxiously  wore  away  the  night.  In  the  morning,  more 
extensive  inquiries  were  instituted.  Messengers  were  des 
patched  to  every  place  where  she  was  known,  and  the  day 
was  spent  in  searching  wrong  places,  investigating  false 
rumors,  and  pursuing  wrong  directions.  In  the  afternoon, 
it  was  believed  that  her  retreat  was  discovered ;  but,  after 
the  loss  of  several  hours,  this  discovery  was  also  proved 
false. 

In  the  first  moment  of  real  alarm,  Mr.  Greening  suspected 
Fitz-Faun,  and  went  to  that  gentleman's  residence  ;  but  was 
there  informed  that  he  had  been  absent  from  the  city  for 
several  days,  and,  on  pressing  his  inquiries,  was  shown  a  let 
ter  received  from  him  the  day  before,  dated  and  postmarked 
several  hundred  miles  away,  stating  that  business  having  de 
tained  him  some  days  longer  than  he  expected,  he  should  not 
return  till  the  ensuing  week.  Mr.  Greening,  therefore,  dis 
missed  his  suspicion  of  Fitz-Faun. 

Mr.  Greening  had  made  known  his  daughter's  absence,  and 
his  own  apprehensions,  as  little  as  possible,  consistent  with 
active  inquiry;  for  he  wished  to  prevent  injurious  suspicions 
and  ill-natured  gossip,  to  the  injury  of  her  reputation.  When, 
however,  the  second  morning  arrived  bringing  no  resource,  he 
sent  for  Alek,  and  told  him  of  the  dreadful  bereavement,  and 


WOLFSDEN.  349 

all  the  circumstances  of  his  fruitless  inquiries,  and  asked  if 
ke  could  suggest  any  plan  of  discovery. 

"  Yes,"  said  Alek.  "  We  must  trace  her  through  Fitz- 
Faun.  We  must  search  all  his  premises,  and  examine  all  his 
associates  and  servants." 

"  But  I  have  told  you,"  said  the  father,  "  that  Fitz-Fauu 
has  long  been  away  from  the  city.  I  saw  the  letter  in  his 
own  hand,  dated  and  postmarked  hundreds  of  miles  away." 

"That  is  what  confirms  my  suspicion,"  replied  Alek. 
"  Himself  or  his  agents  have  accomplished  this  villany, 
either  by  force  or  treachery.  Will  you  give  me  authority  to 
act?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  father.  "  Here,  take  money  —  spare  noth 
ing.  0,  God  !  what  would  I  give  to  save  ray  child  ?  " 

Alek  paused  not  to  hear  the  agonized  expressions  of  the 
despairing  parents.  His  resolution  was  taken.  Count  Flum 
mery's  establishment  must  be  searched  ;  but  perhaps  a  shorter 
way  of  discovery  might  first  be  tried.  Hastening  to  the  coach- 
stand  near  the  City  Hall,  he  singled  out  the  carriage  in  which 
he  had  been  driven  with  Fitz-Faun  and  the  Miss  Dryades. 
The  driver  was  lolling  idly  upon  his  box.  Alek,  who  wished 
to  be  out  of  hearing  of  others,  sprang  up  and  sat  by  his 
side. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  he,  "  where  you  took  the  young  lady,  the 
day  before  yesterday,  by  Mr.  Fitz-Faun's  order." 

"  Fitz-Faun,  Fitz-Faun  !  "  said  the  faithful  John  ;  «  I  am 
not  certain  as  I  know  him.  Where  does  he  live  ?  " 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Alek,  "  this  is  no  trifling  matter.  Tell 
me  where  the  young  lady  is,  and  you  will  save  yourself  trou 
ble.  I  know  who  took  her  away,  and  now  the  question  is, 
where  to  find  her.  Let  me  know  where  she  is  at  once,  and 
30 


*350  WOLFSDEN. 

it  will  be  fifty  dollars  in  your  pocket,  and  nothing  said.  Look 
at  this"  (and  he  exhibited  a  well-filled  pocket-book)  ;  "now 
look  at  me,  —  are  we  friends,  or  not  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  faithful  John,  «  I  'd  help  you  fifty  dollars' 
worth,  if  I  could  do  it,  and  nothing  said.  I  don't  pretend  to 
know  anything,  but  you  may  have  my  opinion,  if  that 's  worth 
fifty  dollars." 

"  Then,"  said  Alek,  "  let  me  have  your  opinion,  and  if  it 
proves  true  the  fifty  dollars  is  yours.  I  'm  in  Greening's 
employ,  and,  if  my  promise  needs  backing,  just  drive  me  to 
his  house  in  two  minutes." 

"  I  'd  rather  trust  you,"  said  cautious  John,  "  than  to  be 
seen  in  the  affair.  But  I  '11  give  you  my  opinion,  and  if  it 
comes  true  you  may  give  me  the  fifty  dollars.  But  you  must 
take  another  coach.  I  don't  want  to  get  mixed  up  in  any 
thing  against  my  customers." 

Alek  agreed  to  the  terms,  and  John,  with  a  meaning  wink, 
whispered, 

"You  know  Count  Flummery's." — Alek  assented. —  "Well, 
that 's  my  opinion." 

"  It 's  mine,  too,"  said  Alek.  And,  taking  the  next  coach, 
he  drove  immediately  for  Edward  Clevis,  and,  telling  the 
young  man  to  enter  without  delay,  they  proceeded  to  the 
police  station,  and  obtained  an  ample  force,  with  which  they 
proceeded  to  Count  Flummery's,  whose  residence  Alek  had 
taken  care  to  remember. 

Alek  explained  the  matter  to  Edward,  while  on  their 
way  to  the  police  station  ;  and  nothing  could  exceed  the  in 
terest  and  zeal  of  the  young  man.  He  warmly  expressed  his 
thanks  to  Alek  for  calling  upon  him  to  aid  in  the  search.  It 
was  not  only  because  Alek  knew  the  deep  interest  his  friend 


WOLFSDEN.  35l 

would  feel  in  the  affair,  but  also  because  he  had  observed 
his  shrewdness  and  capacity  in  other  matters,  which  made 
him,  as.  it  soon  proved,  a  very,  fit  person  to  select  for  the 
occasion. 

Count  Flummery  was  no  way  disconcerted  or  offended  at 
the  visit  of  the  police.  He  was  "  very  glad,"  he  said,  "  since 
there  was  suspicion,  that  there  should  be  an  examination,  by 
which  the  suspicions  would  be  removed.  Besides,  his  pur 
pose  in  residing  for  a  short  time  in  this  country  was  to  ex 
amine  its  institutions  ;  and  he  was  pleased  with  this  visit,  as 
it  would  give  him  an  opportunity,  which  might  otherwise 
have  been  wanting,  of  observing  the  police  system,  which  he 
"  doubted  not  that  he  should  approve,  as  he  did  other  feat 
ures  of  our  institutions."  He  invited  the  gentlemen  to  take 
wine ;  and,  in  short,  presented  in  his  own  person  a  most 
favorable  specimen  of  foreign  manners. 

The  policemen,  however,  to  whom  Alek  had  given  his 
opinion  of  the  count's  real  character,  and  who  had  perhaps 
Borne  knowledge,  or  suspicions,  concerning  it,  performed 
their  duty  faithfully.  Every  room  was  searched,  every 
door  opened,  and  every  possible  place  of  concealment 
explored.  At  length  they  all  returned  to  the  parlor,  con 
vinced  that,  whatever  might  have  been  the  fact  previously, 
the  object  of  their  search  was  not  now  concealed  in  the 
house. 

They  remained  in  the  parlor  a  few  minutes,  exchanging 
civilities  with  the  count,  expressing  regret  at  the  intrusion 
which  their  official  duty  required,  and  their  satisfaction  at 
the  honorable  result,  which  indeed  his  eminent  position  and 
character  made  obvious  from  the  first.  They  were  the  more 
earnest  in  their  civil  expressions,  because  they  still  suspected 


352  \V  O  L  V  &  D  E  N  . 

him  to  be  cognizant  of  the  affair,  and  purposed  to  watch  him 
secretly. 

They  were  about  to  depart,  when  Edward  Clevis,  who  had 
all  the  time  been  musing  apart,  expressed  a  wish  again  to 
examine  the  rooms  of  the  fourth  story ;  and  immediately 
proceeded  thither,  accompanied  by  Alek  and  one  of  the  police. 
On  entering  one  of  the  rooms  before  searched,  he  remarked 
that  he  had  observed  it  to  be  narrower  than  the  room  below 
it,  although  it  extended  further  toward  the  staircase,  making 
the  entry  narrower  ;  and,  therefore,  it  could  not  occupy  the 
whole  width  of  the  house  on  the  side  opposite  the  entrance ; 
and  he  asked  the  others  how  to  account  for  the  diminished 
size  of  the  room,  since  there  was  apparently  no  other  beside 
it.  The  truth  and  importance  of  the  suggestion  was  at  once 
perceived  by  the  others,  and  they  proceeded  to  examine  the 
wall  for  a  concealed  opening,  but  without  success,  —  only 
they  observed  that,  on  striking  the  wall,  it  was  evidently 
not  of  masonry,  like  the  outside  wall,  but  of  carpenter's 
work. 

They  then  examined  the  room  in  the  rear  and  adjoining. 
It  was  of  the  same  width  with  the  last,  and,  like  it,  elegantly 
furnished.  Against  the  wall  which  contracted  the  width  of 
the  room  was  a  beautiful  wardrobe,  movable  upon  castors. 
Slipping  it  on  one  side,  a  door  was  brought  to  view,  which, 
on  opening  it,  disclosed  a  large  wardrobe  closet,  hung  thickly 
on  every  side  with  various  garments. 

"  It  is  evident,"  said  Clevis,  "  that  there  must  be  another 
room  cut  off  from  the  front  room,  and  the  access  to  it  may  be 
through  this  closet." 

The  reasonableness  of  this  supposition  was  clear,  and  they 
proceeded  to  remove  the  clothing  and  other  furniture  from 


WOLFSDEN.  855 

the  closet ;  and  Edward  examined  the  end  of  the  closet  tow^ 
ard  the  front  room.  The  closet  had  little  light,  but  the 
policeman  remedied  the  deficiency  by  producing  a  dark- 
lantern.  13y  close  observation,  it  was  found  that  the  wall 
was  a  movable  one.  Edward  found  that  one  of  the  pegs  on 
which  clothing  had  been  hung  was  loose,  and  in  endeavoring 
to  remove  it  he  turned  it  round,  and  heard  a  click,  like  the 
pushing  back  of  a  bolt.  With  a  slight  effort,  he  then  slid 
the  whole  wall,  which  moved  in  a  groove  to  one  side,  and 
discovered  an  additional  wardrobe,  with  a  door  opposite. 
Opening  the  door,  he  saw  the  object  of  his  search. 

Sophia  was  sitting  in  an  arm-chair,  enveloped  in  a  loose 
dress  of  rich  fabric,  but  carelessly  adjusted.  Her  face  was 
pale.  Her  eyes  were  inflamed,  as  if  with  weeping.  Her  hair 
was  disordered,  and  her  whole  appearance  that  of  affliction 
and  fear.  A  young  girl  attended  her. 

The  room,  though  small,  was  splendidly  furnished.  A 
couch  of  the  richest  drapery  occupied  one  end.  The  walls 
were  covered  with  costly  mirrors  and  beautiful  paintings. 
Nothing  which  luxury  could  devise  and  adapt  to  the  room 
was  wanting.  A  soft  and  beautiful  light  was  diffused  from 
the  ceiling,  which  seemed  composed  of  a  single  plate  of  glass, 
tinted  and  traced  in  the  most  beautiful  colors,  and  with  the 
most  exquisite  taste. 

Upon  seeing  Edward  enter,  Sophia  started  with  alarm,  but 
as  he  approached  her,  saying,  "  Dear  lady,  your  mother  has 
sent  for  you,"  she  sprang  toward  him,  exclaiming,  "  0,  take 
me  to  my  mother  !  "  and,  reeling,  she  would  have  fallen,  but 
Edward  caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  placed  her  upon  the 
couch,  as  Alck  and  the  policeman  advanced  to  give  their 
aid.  Alek,  telling  them  to  await  his  return,  ran  down 
30* 


854  WOLFSDEN. 

stairs  and  reported  the  discovery,  requesting  one  of  the  police 
to  go  immediately  in  the  coach  for  the  parents,  and  the  others 
to  secure  and  detain  the  count  and  all  other  inmates  of  the 
house.  His  directions  were  obeyed,  and  scarcely  an  hour  had 
elapsed  since  Alek  had  first  been  consulted,  before  the  daugh 
ter  was  enfolded  in  her  parents'  embrace. 

When  the  parents  returned  home  with  their  daughter,  they 
found  Augustus  just  returned  from  a  search  in  a  different 
direction,  whither  he  had  been  sent  by  false  information,  and 
which  had  consumed  several  hours.  He  was  extremely 
affected  by  his  sister's  sorrowful  appearance.  He  embraced 
her  affectionately,  and  conjured  her  to  tell  him  all  the 
truth. 

"  0,  my  brother  !  "  said  she,  "  I  am  not  guilty,  but  I  am 
ruined  !  The  wicked  Fitz-Faun  deceived  and  lured  me  in 
his  power,  and  I  could  not  escape !  They  gave  me  drink 
which  took  away  my  senses.  If  he  had  murdered  me,  it 
would  not  have  been  so  cruel !  But  he  has  left  me  alive  to 
be  a  shame  and  reproach  to  you  and  our  dear  parents." 

"  Dearest  sister,"  said  Augustus,  "  do  not  speak  so  !  You 
are  our  joy  and  pride.  Do  not  think  we  can  value  you  the 
less  because  -you  have  suffered  wrong  and  violence.  But  your 
wrong  shall  be  avenged.  Fitz-Faun  shall  pay  dearly  for  this. 
My  sister,  you  shall  see,  and  others  shall  see,  that  jou  have 
a  brother  to  protect  you,  or  at  least  to  punish  those  who  dare 
to  injure  you  !  " 

"Dear  brother  !  "  said  the  agitated  girl,  "do  not  attempt 
it !  Do  not  take  any  steps  that  may  involve  our  parents  in 
deeper  distress,  or  make  this  dreadful  affair  any  more  widely 
known.  0,  what  distress  has  my  indiscretion  brought  upon 
you  all !  But  wait,  at  least,  if  anything  must  be  done,  till 


WOLFSDEN.  355 

there  is  time  for  thought.  Do  not  attempt  anything  rashly. 
0,  brother !  promise  me  this  favor,  for  our  dear  parents' 
sake,  as  well  as  your  own,  —  and  mine,  if  you  can  still  love 
me  !  " 

"  Sister,  I  will  do  as  you  say.  I  will  do  nothing  without 
due  deliberation.  It  will  take  time  to  decide  how  to  act. 
Be  quiet,  now,  upon  that  point,  and  reassure  yourself  every 
way.  You  are  my  own  dear  sister,  and  our  parents'  love 
and  mine  should  console  and  comfort  you.  Compose  your 
self  to  sleep,  while  I  watch  by  you,  for  you  look  weary." 

Augustus  assumed  calmness  to  quiet  his  sister's  apprehen 
sion,  but  a  settled  purpose  of  vengeance  upon  her  betrayer 
Lad  taken  possession  of  his  heart.  His  sister  composed  her 
self  at  his  request,  and  he  took  a  book  and  sat  by  her,  that 
his  moderation  might  give  her  assurance  of  his  purpose  to 
obey  her  wishes. 

However  faulty  Augustus  might  be  in  other  respects,  he 
was  by  no  means  wanting  in  the  impulsive  virtues  of  what  is 
generally  called  a  "high-spirited  fellow."  He  was  generous 
in  any  direction  where  his  feelings  or  fancy  might  lead,  and 
brave  to  repel  or  avenge  insult.  If  his  principles  were  not 
always  strict  to  observe  the  respect  due  to  another  man's  or 
woman's  honor,  at  least  his  pride  was  sufficiently  sensitive  to 
what  might  wound  his  sister's  or  his  own. 

His  energies  were  of  that  kind  which,  if  not  the  most  dur 
able,  is  nevertheless  capable  of  being  wound  up  to  the  highest 
pitch  of  immediate  action.  Nothing  was  wanting  in  the  pres 
ent  case  to  inspire  the  most  desperate  resolution.  His  sister'rf 
injury,  -his  own  insulted  honor,  the  vengeance  due  to  violated 
friendship  and  hospitality,  the  sting  of  scorn  which  tameness 


5356  WOLFSDEN. 

would  provoke,  these  were  more  than  enough  to  fix  his  fiercest 
determination. 

He  continued  to  look  over  the  pages  of  the  book  for  some 
time  after  his  mother  had  entered  the  room.  He  then  'went 
carelessly  out,  as  if  for  an  ordinary  purpose.  Once  out  of 
hearing,  he  hastened  to  his  chamber,  and  examined  the  pistols 
which  he  had  used  in  the  shooting  gallery.  They  were  in 
excellent  order,  and  he  loaded  and  capped  them  in  the  most 
careful  manner.  He  then  cloaked  and  capped  himself  with 
equal  care,  and  in  a  few  moments  gained  the  street  without 
exciting  observation. 

He  repaired  hastily  to  a  public  house  which  commanded  a 
view  of  Fitz-Faun's  residence.  His  faculties  were  sharpened 
by  the  emergency,  and  he  sagaciously  reflected  that  the  surest 
way  to  effect  his  purpose  was  to  await  Fitz-Faun's  appear 
ance  in  the  street,  as  he  was  probably  guarded  against  attack 
in  his  own  house.  His  vengeance  was  impatient,  but  he 
resolved  not  to  frustrate  it  by  want  of  due  caution.  He 
therefore  waited  in  the  window  where  he  was  seated  till 
Fitz-Faun  should  appear,  or  till  he  could  devise  a  sure  means 
of  access  to  him.  As  destiny  would  have  it,  he  did  not  wait 
long.  Fitz-Faun  had  been  informed  of  the  discovery  of 
Sophia,  and  resolved  to  leave  the  city  till  the  aifair  should 
be  blown  over.  He  probably  thought  that,  as  Napoleon  had 
sometimes  retreated  when  he  could  do  no  better,  it  would  be 
no  impeachment  to  his  own  generalship  to  retreat  upon  like 
occasion.  He  therefore  had  already  made  preparations  for 
departure,  and  ordered  his  carriage.  It  was  soon  at  the 
door.  He  entered  it  just  as  Augustus,  who  had  advanced  as 
rapidly  as  possible  without  exciting  observation,  had  reached 
it ;  but  the  coachman  at  that  instant  snapped  his  whip,  and 


WOLFSDEN.  357 

the  horses  started  rapidly  away.  Augustus,  nerved  to  des 
peration,  followed  with  equal  rapidity,  resolved  that  his  prey 
should  not  escape  him.  The  direction  of  the  carriage  made 
it  necessary  to  cross  Broadway,  which  was  then  thronged 
with  carriages,  so  that  Fitz-Faun's  carriage  was  for  a  mo 
ment  stopped.  That  moment  sufficed  for  Augustus  to  gain 
the  carriage  window.  He  saw  Fitz-Faun  reclining  in  the 
back  part  of  the  carriage,  his  face  mostly  concealed  by  a 
travelling-cap.  Augustus,  throwing  off  his  cloak,  broke  in 
the  window  with  the  butt  of  his  pistol.  Fitz-Faun  looked  up. 
Their  eyes  met,  and  in  that  moment  he  received  the  contents 
of  the  pistol  in  his  throat. 

The  ball  cut  its  way  through  his  cravat,  his  windpipe,  tore 
the  carotid  artery,  and,  passing  through  the  neck,  lodged  in 
the  cushioned  side  of  the  carriage. 

Fitz-Faun,  in  the  agonies  of  death,  dashed  through  the 
opposite  window,  and  fell  heavily  upon  the  muddy  pavement. 
He  sprang,  in  his  death  struggle,  again  upon  his  feet.  The 
blood  foamed  from  his  mouth  and  nostrils,  and  his  eyes  pro 
truded  with  suffocation.  He  faltered  a  few  steps,  and  fell 
headlong.  The  horrified  spectators  attempted  to  raise  him. 
His  struggles  became  less  violent,  and  shortly  ceased,  They 
placed  him  in  his  own  carriage,  which  returned  immediately 
to  his  house. 

When  Augustus  discharged  his  pistol,  his  excitement  had 
risen  to  the  pitch  of  frenzy.  His  cloak  and  cap  had  fallen  in 
the  street,  and  he  sprang  around  the  carriage  to  the  side 
whence  Fitz-Faun  emerged,  with  his  remaining  pistol  pre 
pared  for  action.  Facing  Fitz-Faun  as  he  rose,  he  would  have 
again  fired,  but  the  bloody  and  ghastly  spectacle  deterred 
him.  But  he  shouted,  in  the  madness  of  ungovernable  rage, 


858  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

"  Die,  wretch  !  —  die,  dog  !  Do  you  know  me  ?  I  'm  your 
old  friend,  Augustus  Greening.  Yes,  gentlemen,"  said  he, 
looking  round  on  the  gathering  crowd,  "  I  'ni  the  man  that 
killed  that  dog  !  He  was  the  Napoleon,  but  I  'm  the  Wel 
lington.  Yes,  sir  (to  a  policeman  who  advanced  to  him), 
I  'in  your  man  !  " 

Alek  had  remained  at  the  count's  till  Sophia  departed  with 
her  parents ;  then,  leaving  the  count  and  his  household  in 
charge  of  the  officers,  he  hastened  to  the  court  of  police,  and 
entered  a  complaint  against  the  count,  and  also  stated  his 
belief  concerning  the  bracelet  in  possession  of  the  countess. 
An  examination  of  those  eminent  persons  was  ordered  ;  and 
it  appearing,  among  more  important  matters,  that  the  object 
of  the  count's  brief  residence  in  this  country  was  chiefly  to 
examine  into  American  institutions,  the  judge  very  graciously 
awarded  to  him  an  apartment  peculiarly  favorable  to  his 
•studies,  in  an  edifice  of  Egyptian  architecture,  sometimes 
styled  "  The  Tombs." 

An  examination  of  his  effects  proved  that  the  count  had  a 
decided  talent  for  choice  collections ;  and  a  list  of  articles 
being  taken  and  exhibited  for  the  benefit  of  the  curious  in 
such  matters,  a  number  of  gentlemen,  tradesmen  and  others, 
formerly  patronized  by  the  count,  appeared  and  identified 
many  choice  articles,  to  which  they  laid  claim,  forgetful  of 
the  delicate  feelings  of  their  noble  friend,  who  had  privately 
appropriated  these  trifles  as  keepsakes  and  memorials  of 
friendship,  as  was  afterward  proved  by  his  own  declaration 
in  his  defence.  The  countess  objected  to  the  indignity  of 
being  searched,  as  the  operation  seemed  to  imply  suspicions 
derogatory  to  her  honor  and  rank  ;  but,  being  told  that  the 
ceremony  was  indispensable,  she  finally  submitted ;  and  the 


WOLFSDEN.  '  359 

bracelet,  the  gift  of  a  queen,  with  many  other  costly  trinkets, 
doubtless  presented  by  duchesses,  peeresses,  marchionesses, 
and  other  high  pomposities,  were  all  carefully  collected,  cat 
alogued,  and  safely  kept,  as  was  her  ladyship,  for  further 
consideration. 

Alek  had  scarcely  returned  to  his  place  of  business,  when 
a  fanner-looking  man,  attended  by  a  young  man  who  was  his 
son,  came  hastily  in,  and  inquired  for  Mr.  Greening.  Alek 
recognized  him  as  Mr.  George  Washington  Bowpin,  of  Fur- 
rowdale,  the  same  person  who  had  formerly  inquired  of  him 
concerning  Fitz-Faun,  whose  name  Mr.  Bowpin  supposed  to 
be  Smith.  Mr.  Bowpin  had  witnessed  the  death  of  Fitz- 
Faun,  and,  hearing  the  homicide  declare  himself  as  Augustus 
Greening,  he  had  come  to  announce  the  fact  to  the  father. 

Alek  heard  his  story,  and,  requesting  him  to  await  his 
return,  ran  to  his  employer's  house,  and,  calling  him  in  pri 
vately,  communicated  the  intelligence  in  the  terms  the  least 
likely  to  agitate  a  father  in  such  a  case.  They  at  once  pro 
ceeded  to  Augustus'  place  of  confinement ;  Alek,  in  the  mean 
time,  suggesting  to  the  father  the  justice  and  expediency  of 
withholding  all  censure,  and  vindicating  his  son's  act  as  the 
necessary  result  of  virtuous  and  honorable  impulses. 

"  For,"  said  Alek,  "  the  law  is  now  his  accuser,  ami  both 
nature  and  justice  require  of  you  to  be  his  advocate  until 
acquitted  by  the  law,  and  then  you  may  properly  judge  him 
as  a  parent.  Mr.  Greening  took  the  same  view,  and  in  his 
interviews  and  consultations  with  his  son,  then  and  afterward, 
gave  no  hint  of  disapprobation,  but  supported  him  with  un 
qualified  tenderness  and  encouragement. 

To  avoid  the  necessity  of  recurring  to  this  affair  again,  it 
may  as  well  be  here  stated  that  the  trial  took  place  shortly 


860  WOLFSDEN. 

afterwards,  and  Augustus  was  honorably  acquitted,  on  the 
ground  of  temporary  insanity.  His  frantic  gestures  and 
exclamations  at  the  time  of  the  murder,  as  sworn  to  by  Mr. 
George  Washington  Bowpin  and  his  son,  and  other  specta 
tors,  gave  a  sufficient  pretence  for  acquittal  in  this  case, 
though  it  would  hardly  have  availed  in  case  of  a  murder  com 
mitted  with  less  provocation.  The  verdict  was  received  with 
a  burst  of  applause  by  the  spectators  which  the  court  reproved 
with  unusual  mildness. 


CHAPTER     XXV. 


WHEN*  Alck  returned  to  the  office,  after  communicating  the 
manner  of  Fitz-Faun's  death  to  Mr.  Greening,  and  accompa 
nying  him  to  his  son's  place  of  imprisonment,  he  inquired  of 
Mr.  Bowpin  more  particularly  about  the  circumstances  of  the 
tragedy  ;  and  also  the  meaning  of  his  expressions  of  surprise 
on  a  former  occasion,  when  told  the  real  name  of  Fitz-Faun. 
Mr.  Bowpin  replied  that,  some  few  months  ago,  that  person 
had  brought  to  his  house  in  Furrowdale  a  lady  whom  he 
introduced  as  his  wife,  and  with  whom  he  took  a  room,  which 
they  occupied  several  weeks.  The  gentleman  gave  his  name 
as  Smith.  He  was  absent  most  of  the  day,  sometimes  leav 
ing  the  lady,  but  often  he  took  her  with  him.  The  lady  was 
very  beautiful,  and  seemed  much  attached  to  him,  but  ap 
peared  not  perfectly  happy,  especially  when  he  was  absent. 
He  was  liberal  in  his  expenses,  but  by  no  means  communica 
tive,  and  appeared  to  avoid  observation. 

Mr.  Bowpin  was  certain  that  Fitz-Faun  was  the  person ; 
and  the  son,  who  recognized  him  as  he  sprang  from  the  car 
riage  after  receiving  the  fatal  wound,  was  equally  certain  of 
his  identity.  Their  description  of  the  lady  answered  to  the 
appearance  of  Erycina  ;  and  Mr.  Bowpin  expressed  the  opin 
ion  that  she  was  innocent  of  any  intentional  deception.  Both 
31 


362  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  K  . 

the  Bowpins  said  that  they  should  know  the  lady  again  under 
any  circumstances. 

Alek  took  a  note  of  these  statements,  and  told  the  Bowpins 
that  there  might  be  occasion  to  verify  the  facts  by  their  tes 
timony,  for  the  purpose  of  maintaining  the  lady's  right  of 
dower  as  Fitz-Faun's  widow,  and  they  agreed  to  be  ready 
when  called  for. 

It  had  occurred  to  Alek,  that  if  Miss  Meekly's  statements 
could  be  proved,  namely,  that  Fitz-Faun  had  lived  with  her, 
or  represented  her  as  his  wife,  she  might  perhaps  have  a  legal 
claim  to  be  so  considered ;  and,  since  he  had  deceived  her  by 
means  of  a  marriage  ceremony,  nothing  could  be  more  just 
than  that  the  marriage  should  thus  be  legalized. 

The  opportune  discovery  of  the  Bowpins  seemed  to  supply 
an  important  part  of  the  needed  evidence ;  and  he  immediately 
consulted  counsellor  Grappler,  who,  like  faithful  John  the 
coachman,  was  ready  to  dispose  of  his  opinion,  which  Alek 
found  sufficiently  favorable  to  encourage  him  to  proceed  —  as 
is  generally  the  case  when  litigants  ask  legal  advice. 

Alek  had  lately  received  a  letter  from  his  Aunt  Hobart, 
which  gave  so  favorable  a  view  of  Miss  Meekly's  character 
and  disposition,  that  he  was  the  more  earnest  to  obtain  for 
her  the  just  redress  which  her  case  claimed.  The  letter  was 
as  follows  : 

"  MY  DEAR  NEPHEW  :  Miss  Meekly  requests  you  to  send 
the  enclosed  twenty  dollars  to  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Sarah  Meadows, 
whose  place  of  residence  she  says  you  are  informed  of.  She 
speaks  of  her  aunt  as  being  in  circumstances  which  may  make 
the  money  needful  to  her ;  but  wishes  her  not  to  know  where  it 
comes  from,  for  reasons  which  she  thinks  you  will  understand. 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  .  303 

"  The  young  woman  is  much  approved  here,  being  discnet 
and  well-favored.  It  is  very  good  of  her  to  bestow  her  earn 
ings  to  help  her  aunt ;  and  it  is  hopeful  that  she  will  not  lose 
her  reward. 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  good  accounts  of  you,  and  hope  that 
you  will  always  remember  to  wait  upon  the  Lord,  and  not  let 
your  heart  be  puffed  up  by  prosperity ;  for  the  Lord  hateth 
the  proud,  but  giveth  grace  unto  the  humble. 

"  Your  cousin  Hezekiah  sends  his  kind  regards.  He  is  to 
visit  Wolfsden  next  Thanksgiving  ;  and  I  trust  that  we  shall 
have  Helen  with  us  the  coming  winter. 

"  Your  affectionate  aunt, 

"  ABIGAIL  HOBART." 

Having  received  counsellor.  Grappler's  advice,  Alek  wrote 
to  Miss  Meekly,  informing  her  of  Fitz-Faun's  death,  and 
stating  in  detail  the  discovery  and  the  importance  of  her 
legal  rights  as  his  wife  and  widow,  to  vindicate  which  re 
quired  her  immediate  return  to  New  York.  He  enclosed  the 
letter  in  one  to  his  aunt,  in  which  he  stated  more  briefly  that 
Miss  Meekly's  rights  in  the  property  of  a  person  lately  de 
ceased  required  her  presence.  He  also  wrote  to  Mrs.  Sim- 
perkins,  detailing  the  developments  concerning  Count  Flum 
mery,  and  his  probable  identity  with  her  former  friend,  Count 
Flipperton,  especially  as  a  bracelet  displayed  by  the  countess 
answered  her  description  of  the  one  formerly  belonging  to 
herself.  He  advised  her,  that  she  might  probably  recover  it 
by  early  application. 

In  due  season  the  winning  old  lady  came,  and  made  such 
excellent  impression  upon  the  chief  of  police,  by  her  appear 
ance  and  her  story  (which  Alek  confirmed  as  being  her  old 


304  WOLFSDEN. 

story),  and  also  by  other  proofs  (the  strongest  of  which  was 
her  instantly  identifying  the  count  among  a  crowd  of  prison 
ers),  that  the  bracelet  was  restored  to  her ;  perhaps  partly 
through  virtue  of  an  ancient  precedent  established  by  a 
famous  judge,  "  Lest  by  her  continual  coming  she  weary 
me." 

Mrs.  Simperkins,  having  regained  her  long-lost  bracelet 
and  having  duly  considered  the  fleeting  nature  of  such  orna 
ments,  and  having,  perhaps,  some  vague  impression  that  the 
period  of  youthful  vanities  was  passing  away,  and  that  the 
solid  charms  of  a  well-lined  purse  might  better  become  her 
maturer  years,  took  the  advice  of  Alek,  and,  applying  to  a 
jeweller  in  Broadway,  whom  she  convinced  that  the  ornament, 
or  at  least  herself,  was  "  ha  hunique,"  she  received  the  cash 
value  of  her  treasure,  which  paid  her  expenses  and  carried 
her  home  with  a  heavier  purse  than  she  had  ever  before  pos 
sessed  ;  and  also  with  a  heart  from  which  all  traces  of  resent 
ment  toward  Alek,  for  her  long-remembered  shipwreck  in  the 
snow-drift,  were  forever  obliterated. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


Miss  MEEKLY,  upon  her  arrival  in  New  York,  being  advised 
by  Mr.  Grappler  (whose  activity  in  behalf  of  his  fair  client, 
aided  by  the  zeal  of  Alek  and  the  recollections  of  the  Bow- 
pins,  had  already  accumulated  an  amount  of  evidence  sufficient 
for  present  purposes),  took  the  name  of  Fitz-Faun,  and  imme 
diately  proceeded  to  his  late  residence,  accompanied  by  that 
eminent  counsellor.  At  the  house  they  found  the  elder  Fitz- 
Faun,  father  of  the  deceased,  under  whose  orders  some  of  the 
furniture  was  being  removed.  Mr.  Grappler,  in  behalf  of  his 
client,  commanded  a  stay  of  proceedings,  and  introduced  the 
lady  to  Mr.  Fitz-Faun,  senior,  as  the  widow  of  his  son,  who 
had  come  to  claim  her  dower  and  take  possession  of  the  house 
and  personal  effects  of  the  deceased,  by  virtue  of  her  legal 
right.  The  old  gentleman  was  astonished  at  the  announce 
ment  ;  but  the  highly  respectable  character  of  Mr.  Grappler, 
who  briefly  told  the  fact  of  the  private  marriage  of  his  son, 
and  that  it  could  be  substantiated  by  the  acknowledgment  of 
the  deceased,  and  other  sufficient  proof,  prevented  resistance, 
and  the  old  man  left  the  house  in  possession  of  the  new  claim 
ant  and  her  adviser,  and  proceeded  to  the  office  of  his  legal 
counsellor,  the  equally  eminent  Mr.  Grinder ;  between  whom 
and  Mr.  Grappler  the  business  was  settled  to  the  advantage 
31* 


366  WOLFSDEN. 

of  all  parties,  Grappler  and  Grinder  included.  A  compro 
mise  was  effected,  by  which  Mrs.  Fitz-Faun  yielded  all  inter 
est  in  the  estate  of  the  deceased,  and  received  ten  thousand 
dollars,  and  a  proper  acknowledgment  of  the  legality  of  her 
marriage. 

Alek  had  in  the  first  place  stated  her  case  to  Mr.  Greening 
(omitting  the  circumstances  of  his  first  acquaintance  with  her), 
and  it  was  by  his  advice  that  Mr.  Grappler  was  retained  in 
her  behalf.  When  her  claims  were  adjusted,  Mr.  Greening 
desired  to  see  her  ;  and,  on  being  introduced,  after  some  con 
versation,  he  inquired  the  place  of  her  early  residence. 

"  Cedar  Grove,"  she  replied. 

"  Cedar  Grove  !  —  why,  my  daughter  spent  several  weeks 
there,  two  years  ago." 

"  Your  daughter  ?  —  is  her  name  Sophia  Greening  ?  " 

"  The  same." 

"  Why,  she  is  my  dearest  friend.     Can  I  see  her  ?  " 

Mr.  Greening  explained  his  daughter's  misfortune,  and 
added,  "  If  you  can  still  condescend  to  claim  her  as  your 
friend,  I  will  take  you  to  her  at  once." 

"  Condescend  !  "  exclaimed  she.  "  Why  do  you  speak  so? 
—  as  though  she  were  degraded  by  the  villany  and  violence 
of  another.  To  admit  such  an  idea  is  to  degrade  me  also  ! 
Let  me  see  her  as  soon  as  possible.  She  is  an  angel  of  purity 
and  goodness." 

The  gratified  father  led  the  fair  Fitz-Faun  to  his  daughter. 
As  soon  as  they  met,  Sophia  sprung  to  her  arms,  exclaiming, 
"  My  dear  Emily  Meekly  !  " 

Fondly  sweet  was  their  sisterly  embrace.  Emily  remained 
and  comforted  Sophia.  They  confided  to  each  other  all  their 
history.  Together  they  visited  the  imprisoned  brother,  whose 


WOLFSDEN.  367 

acquittal,  or  pardon,  Mr.  Grappler  assured  them  might  be 
relied  on.  Together  they  attended  the  trial,  where  Sophia 
was  compelled,  as  a  witness,  to  tell  her  story  ;  which  she  did 
with  such  simplicity  and  clearness,  as  aided  not  a  little  her 
brother's  cause,  and  together  they  rejoiced  at  his  acquittal. 

The  heart  of  Augustus  was  touched  with  the  sympathy 
and  the  charms  of  Emily ;  and  after  his  release  he  proved 
his  unabated  love  to  his  sister,  by  falling  in  love  with  her 
friend. 

That  this  episode  may  not  hang  upon  our  hands,  we  will 
add,  that  Augustus  became  sobered  down  to  a  rational  being 
by  the  late  tragic  events.  He  concluded  to  exchange  his 
chivalrous  notions  and  high-life  pretensions  for  a  common- 
sense  character,  as  more  useful  and  respectable  ;  and  he  re 
solved  upon  matrimony,  as  the  first  decided  step  in  his  new 
career.  Parents  approved.  Sophia  solicited.  Emily  hesi 
tated,  and  insisted  upon  a  year's  probation  ;  but  finally  com 
promised  for  six  months,  a  part  of  which  time  she  spent  with 
her  aunt,  Mrs.  Sarah  Meadows,  at  Cedar  Grove,  to  whom, 
with  the  approval  of  Augustus  and  his  father,  she  secured  an 
independent  support  during  life,  by  the  purchase  of  an  annu 
ity.  In  due  time  Mrs.  Fitz-Faun  became  Mrs.  Augusta 
Greening  (adopting  the  feminine  of  her  husband's  name).  It 
is  now  some  years  since,  and  they  all  profess  never  to  have 
regretted  the  transaction. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 


A  DAY  or  two  after  the  acquittal  of  young  Greening,  the 
father  called  Alek  into  his  private  counting-room,  and  thus 
addressed  him  : 

"  My  young  friend,  your  faithfulness  and  ability  have  been, 
of  the  utmost  service  to  me  and  my  family,  —  more  than  I 
can  express.  It  is  to  your  efficient  aid  that  I  owe  my  daugh 
ter's  restoration.  It  is  impossible  that  I  should  fully  repay 
you ;  and  it  is  not  in  your  disposition  to  expect  it ;  indeed, 
no  person  of  right  disposition  desires  to  be  fully  repaid  for 
the  benefits  which  his  abilities  may  enable  him  to  confer  upon 
others.  We  are  bound  to  help  each  other  according  to  our 
several  needs  and  opportunities,  and  God  has  appointed  a 
sufficient  recompense  for  every  good  deed.  I  wish,  however, 
to  show  you  that  I  appreciate  your  services,  and  am  grateful 
for  them.  I  have  made  an  entry  on  my  journal  which 
doubles  your  salary  for  the  present  year,  and  it  shall  be  pro 
portionately  increased  beyond  our  first  agreement  for  the 
time  that  you  shall  remain  in  my  employ.  I  intend  in  a 
reasonable  time  to  make  you  an  advantageous  offer  of  a  part 
nership  in  the  business,  which,  whether  you  accept  it  or  not, 
will  show  my  perfect  confidence  in  your  ability  and  zeal.  In 
the  mean  time,  consider  me  a  friend  and  adviser,  more  than 


WOLFSDEN.  dby 

an  employer ;  and  when  you  have  need  of  my  influence  or 
resources,  they  are  yours.  I  need  not  say  that  your  company 
is  always  particularly  welcome  at  my  house,  since  I  am  com 
missioned  by  the  unanimous  request  of  my  family  to  invite 
you  to  take  residence  with  us,  if  agreeable  to  yourself,  as  soon 
as  convenient." 

"  Your  kindness  to  me,"  replied  Alek,  "  is  more  than  any 
thing  I  have  done  deserves,  but  I  will  make  every  effort  to 
deserve  it,  as  I  have  opportunity.  You  are,  however,  under 
a  misapprehension  as  to  the  person  chiefly  instrumental  in 
rescuing  your  daughter,  and  I  should  be  guilty  in  receiving  the 
praise  belonging  to  another.  It  was  Edward  Clevis  who  liber 
ated  her,  by  insisting  on  a  second  search,  when  we  were  on  the 
point  of  leaving  the  house,  supposing  that  we  had  examined 
every  possible  place  of  concealment." 

Alek  then  gave  an  account  of  all  the  particulars  of  the 
search,  and  placed  his  friend's  promptitude  and 'sagacity  in 
the  fairest  light,  and  added,  "  I  think  it  proper,  since  you 
have  admitted  me  as  a  friend,  who  may  allude  to  your  domes 
tic  affairs,  to  give  you  information  that  may  enable  you  to 
act  understandingly  in  whatever  marks  of  favor  you  may  be 
disposed  to  show  him.  Mr.  Clevis  has  long  been  deeply 
impressed  with  the  merits  of  your  daughter,  and  probably 
might  have  the  presumption  to  make  his  partiality  manifest, 
if  admitted  to  a  position  giving  him  encouragement.  He 
never  has  spoken  to  me  of  his  attachment,  nor  probably  to 
any  one  else  ;  but  I  am  positive  in  my  opinion,  and  I  have 
so  good  an  impression  of  his  personal  merits,  that  I  wish 
his  situation  in  life  were  equal  to  his  good  taste  and  ambi 
tion." 

"  You  mean  that  you  would  like  to  speak  a  good  word  for 


370  WOLFSDEN. 

him,"  said  Mr.  Greening,  goodnaturedly.  "  Your  honorable 
conduct,  in  explaining  his  share  in  the  important  service  ren 
dered  me,  is  worthy  of  you.  It  does  not  lessen  iny  obliga 
tion  to  you,  though  it  admits  him  to  an  equal  claim.  The 
young  man  has  always  stood  well  in  my  opinion,  though  I 
have  not  had  occasion  to  employ  him  in  any  service  requir 
ing  more  than  ordinary  ability.  Your  opinion  of  his  merits 
weighs  much  with  me,  and  I  shall  give  him  opportunity  to 
prove  them.  By  '  his  situation  in  life,'  I  suppose  you  refer 
to  his  not  possessing  property ;  but  if  he  possesses  talent,  it 
is  an  equivalent.  Both  you  and  he  are  richer  than  myself, 
taking  the  difference  of  years  into  account,  provided  you  have 
proper  business  ability ;  for  the  thirty  years  which  you  have 
in  prospect  before  attaining  my  present  age  will,  if  employed 
in  making  money,  as  I  have,  perhaps  too  assiduously,  em 
ployed  my  years,  will  make  either  of  you  richer  than  I  am, 
for  you  have  a  much  better  beginning  than  I  had  at  your 
age  ;  as  I  had  neither  instruction  in  business,  nor  available 
friends,  and  you  have  both.  You  may  bring  your  friend  to 
my  house,  and  I  doubt  not  that  his  discretion  will  be  equal  to 
his  other  good  qualities." 

Alek  rightly  understood  this  last  remark  as  an  intimation 
to  check  any  undue  forwardness  in  his  friend,  but  not  to  for 
bid  his  hopes,  and  he  therefore  modified  the  invitation  to 
Edward  accordingly.  Edward  visited  his  patron's  house 
with  his  friend,  and  made  himself  agreeable  by  his  unas 
suming  manner,  and  soon  became  on  familiar  terms  with  the 
family.  It  has  already  been  told  how  Sophia  perceived  his 
partiality  on  the  occasion  of  their  first  interview  at  Mr. 
Boynton's  soiree,  and  was  not  unfavorably  impressed  by  it. 


WOLF8DEN.  371 

Her  deep  humiliation  and  sorrow  since  that  time  had  dis 
posed  her  still  more  favorably  to  appreciate  the  regard  of 
a  sincere  and  honorable  heart ;  and  it  may  be  inferred  that 
Edward,  who  had  much  love,  had  also  some  ground  of 
hope. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 


O,  FAIB  flowers  of  life's  dewy  morning  !  0,  breezes  redo 
lent  of  youth's  balmy  breath  !  0,  gleams  of  early  brightness 
still  gilding  the  fading  horizon !  O,  memories  still  fresh  and 
fragrant,  —  ye  choice  treasures  of  the  secret  heart,  no  longer 
open  to  gather  joys  from  without !  Let  your  influence  exhale 
from  the  recording  pen,  and  crystallize  upon  the  descriptive 
page.  So,  though  the  dust  of  present  neglect  should  settle 
here,  yet  some  future  explorer  of  ancient  lore  shall  find  the 
long-forgotten  tome,  and,  scanning  its  pages,  say,  "  These  are 
the  traces  of  a  faithful  pen." 

Harry  and  Margaret  sit  together  upon  the  shelvy  rock  in 
the  mellow  autumn  evening,  and  watch  where  the  rays  of  the 
yet  unrisen  moon  silver  the  tops  of  northern  mountains.  His 
arm  encircles  her  graceful  form.  Her  clasped  hands  rest 
upon  his  shoulder.  His  fond  eyes  are  fixed  upon  her  radiant 
face.  The  evening  breeze  fans  her  waving  ringlets  till  they 
touch  his  inclining  cheek.  They  speak  to  each  other  in  sweet 
tones,  the  ever  new  language  of  a  thousand  years,  —  of  un 
known  ages,  of  unnumbered  worlds,  —  the  speech  of  the  soul, 
the  language  of  love.  The  silence  of  nature's  solitude  suits 
'  their  listening  ears.  Her  soft  murmur,  blended  from  a 
thousand  distant  sounds,  borne  upon  the  breeze,  disturbs 


WOLFSDEN.  373 

not  their  thoughts.  There  is  a  universal  harmony  of  peace 
and  love. 

She  tells  him  of  the  thoughts  of  her  young  days  ;.  of  her 
aspirations  for  the  beautiful,  the  spiritual,  the  elevated,  the 
refined.  How,  though  inward  purity  and  goodness  com 
manded  her  esteem  and  reverence,  yet,  wanting  in  outward 
grace  and  elegance,  they  could  not  touch  her  heart.  How, 
though  she  dared  not  hope  to  possess,  she  had  sighed  at  least 
to  see  the  perfection  which  her  fancy  pictured ;  a  diamond 
sparkling  with  wrought  and  polished  lustre,  a  soul  of  inward 
worth  and  outward  adornment. 

"  God,  is  good  to  me,"  she  said.  "  He  has  given  me  my 
soul's  desire.  I  feel  your  purity  and  truth  ;  they  are  the 
deep  foundations  of  my  reverence  and  esteem.  I  am  charmed 
with  the  outward  grace  which  sets  forth  the  inward  worth. 
This  is  the  superstructure  within  which  my  heart  of  love 
delights  to  dwell." 

Thus  the  love  of  pure  minds  exalts  its  object,  shedding 
thereon  the  light  of  its  own  brightness.  It  also  elevates  and 
refines  that  upon  which  its  light  is  thrown.  The  generous  soul, 
which  finds  itself  prized  above  its  deserts,  will  strive  for  the 
excellence  which  shall  make  it  worthy  of  all  the  praise  it 
receives. 

Thus  Harry  Boynton  resolved  to  strive  and  attain  the  ex 
alted  sphere  of  purity  and  goodness,  where  the  love  of  Mar 
garet  placed  him.  His  conscious  faults  he  would  amend ; 
his  hidden  evil  he  would  detect  and  subdue  ;  he  would 
strengthen  his  reverence  for  goodness,  purity,  and  all  that 
elevates  the  soul.  He  would  be  worthy  of  Margaret's  price 
less  love. 

He  told  her  of  the  larger  experience  of  his  life ;  how  he 
32 


374  WOLFS  DEN. 

had  dwelt  among  the  high-wrought  scenes  of  artificial  society ; 
how  his  fancy  was  fascinated  by  the  grace  and  elegance  with 
which  polished  culture  gilds  outward  forms,  though  moulded 
of  mean  material ;  how  pretty  lips  are  taught  to  counterfeit 
the  language  of  the  soul,  or  speak  the  senseless  babble  of 
fashion  in  such  enchanting  tones  as  charm  away  the  soul's 
discrimination  ;  how  he  scanned  their  affectation,  and  thought 
he  scanned  the  female  heart  ;  how  he  discarded  serious 
thought,  and  laughed,  and  sported,  and  sung  the  songs  and 
danced  in  the  idle  rounds  of  frivolity,  and  said  that  all  life 
was  but  an  empty  show,  for  man's  illusion  given,  —  being  as 
yet  unaware  of  its  deep  meaning  and  high  destiny.  How,  as 
a  dreamer  long  entranced  in  gay  delusions,  half  conscious  of 
their  unreality,  is  wakened  by  the  rising  sun  to  worthy  duties 
and  delights,  so  the  light  from  a  true  soul  had  beamed  through 
her  dear  eyes  into  his  welcoming  heart,  and  wakened  it  to  a 
glorious  life. 

Thus  does  love  exaggerate  its  history,  and  exalt  its  votary 
and  its  object  above  the  mortal  sphere,  perhaps  above  mortal 
comprehension. 

The  risen  moon  ascended  in  serene  majesty  among  the 
twinkling  stars.  Nature  listened  in  silence  to  their  sweet 
accents  of  love,  or  responded  in  softened  echoes  of  distant 
sounds.  With  encircling  arms  or  clasping  hands  they  slowly 
wind  along  the  rustic  pathway,  —  by  gray  lichened  rocks ;  by 
hillocks  of  green  tufted  moss ;  by  young  birchen  trees  that 
greeted  them  with  the  gentle  murmur  of  waving  leaves ;  by 
scattered  ferns  that  offered  the  incense  of  their  sweet  fra 
grance  ;  through  the  broken  wall  which  bounds  the  orchard, 
beneath  the  apple-trees  whose  yellow  or  ruddy  fruit  bestrewed 
the  soft  turf;  by  the  well,  where  the  old  oaken  bucket  swung 


WOLl'SDEN.  375 

idly  from  the  sweep ;  through  the  deserted  porch  where  milk 
pails  and  pans  were  piled  for  morning  use ;  through  the  spa 
cious  kitchen,  swept  and  silent,  save  the  cricket  chirruping 
in  the  hearth ;  whence,  lingeringly  separating,  they  sought 
their  several  rooms,  and  adored  the  Power  who  formed  the 
soul  for  love. 


Much  was  little  Amy  vexed  when  Fanny  told  her,  as  a 
great  secret,  that  Margaret  was  to  marry  Harry.  She  said 
that  "  It  was  a  shame  for  Margaret  to  do  so,  when  everybody 
said  that  she  was  to  be  Alek's  wife,  and  she  had  got  the 
promise  to  go  and  live  with  them  when  they  should  be  mar 
ried  ;  and  now  there  is  nobody  left  good  enough  to  be 
Alek's  wife  only  you,  and  you  can't  be  his  wife  because  you 
are  his  sister ;  and,  besides,  you  are  only  a  little  girl,  and  I 
am  only  a  little  girl  ;  and,  besides,  I  am  to  be  his  daughter, 
and  so  I  can't  be  his  wife,  —  and  I  wish  Harry  had  got  some 
body  else.  He  might  have  had  Sister  Ann,  only  Josiah 
Brown  wants  her ;  but  he  might  have  had  Sister  Hannah, 
only  mother  can't  spare  her  and  Ann  and  me  too.  But  now 
Uncle  Alek  will  never  be  married  when  he  comes  back,  and  I 
never  can  live  with  him."  Thus  little  Amy  mourned,  but 
Fanny  soothed  her,  saying, 

"Alek  will  have  a  nice  wife,  one  of  these  days;  for  mother 
says  there  is  a  sweet  girl  growing  up  for  him,  and  what 
mother  says  always  comes  true.  So  I  think  you  will  have  a 
chance  to  live  with  him,  and  we  shall  have  nice  times,  after 
all." 

Then  Amy  wondered  who  the  sweet  girl  could  be,  and  if 
she  should  love  her  as  well  as  Margaret ;  and  she  resolved  to 
ask  Aunt  Deborah  about  it.  But  Aunt  Deborah  told  her  it 


376  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

was  a  great  secret  yet ;  and  Amy  puzzled  herself  to  think 
who  it  could  be. 

All  over  town  they  talked  of  Harry  and  Margaret's  engage 
ment,  —  they  always  do  so  in  Wolfsden.  The  girls  who 
judged  themselves  handsome  thought,  if  Harry  looked  for 
beauty,  he  was  not  the  best  judge  in  the  world.  Those  who 
prided  themselves  upon  their  skill  in  housewifery  reckoned 
Harry  would  be  disappointed  when  he  found  what  sort  of  a 
housekeeper  she  would  be.  Those  who  counted  themselves 
among  the  aristocracy  of  Wolfsden  thought  Margaret  a  proud 
minx,  —  "just  as  if  nobody  in  Wolfsden  was  good  enough  for 
her."  Those  who  were  become  sensible  of  the  full  maturity 
of  their  own  virginhood  thought  Margaret  a  forward  miss,  to 
be  engaged  before  she  was  out  of  her  teens.  And  so  they  all 
envied  her,  and  congratulated  her,  and  told  her  they  were 
glad  to  hear  it. 

The  young  men  "  thought  it  a  good  joke  that  Alek  should 
be  jilted,  when  he  counted  his  game  so  sure.  Would  n't  he 
swear  when  he  heard  of  it  ?  True,  his  mother  had  taught 
him  not  to  swear,  but  they  should  like  to  be  there  and  see. 
But  it  was  not  a  handsome  thing  in  Harry  to  cut  out  his  old 
friend  and  crony.  That 's  the  way  of  those  city  chaps  ;  give 
'em  a  spoon,  and  you  may  as  well  give  up  the  whole  platter, 
—  they  '11  take  it,  anyhow.  Harry  's  got  his  eye-teeth  cut. 
He  thinks  the  major  may  die  and  leave  'em  the  farm.  May 
get  cheated,  after  all,  —  some  old  folks  never  die.  However, 
Harry  's  a  generous  fellow,  and  we  '11  hope  for  the  best ;  — 
he  must  stand  a  treat,  anyhow." 

And  so  they  envied  Harry,  and  censured  him,  and  proph 
esied  ill  luck,  but  greeted  him  with  double  complaisance ; 
"  For,"  said  they,  "  we  now  look  upon  you  as  a  Wolfsdenner." 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  .  377 

The  mothers  of  fair  daughters  "  wondered  what  Mr.  Boyn- 
ton  saw  in  Margaret  so  much  better  than  anybody  else,  and 
hoped  it  might  all  come  out  well  in  the  end;  but  they  had 
known  things  which  did  not  come  out  so  well  in  the  end, 
after  all,"  and  they  shook  their  heads  negatively.  But  they 
told  their  daughters  that  they  might  invite  the  young  couple 
to  tea,  some  afternoon  ;  they  wanted  to  be  neighborly. 

The  brethren  of  the  church  thought  Major  Murray  would 
do  well  to  look  to  the  ways  of  his  household.  They  should 
feel  it  a  duty  not  to  let  a  daughter  of  theirs  marry  an  uncon 
verted  person,  especially  one  brought  up  among  the  Episco 
palians,  who  read  their  prayers  and  sing  the  Scriptures,  and 
all  that  heathenish  sort  of  thing.  But  it  would  be  of  no  use 
to  interfere.  The  major  was  a  set  man  in  his  way.  And  so 
when  they  met  the  major  they  shook  hands  with  double  vigor, 
to  atone  for  uncharitable  thoughts. 

Thus  the  people  of  Wolfsden  endured  what  could  not  be 
cured.  Harry  and  Margaret  were  allowed  to  have  it  all  their 
own  way,  and  their  own  way  was  to  be  married  next  Thanks 
giving  ;  and  in  the  mean  time  Harry  would  go  to  his  home 
in  Carolina,  and  make  preparation. 
32* 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 


HARRY'S  father,  Mr.  Pelham  Boynton,  was  declining  in 
health,  and  glad  to  have  his  son  return  ;  and  glad  when  he 
asked  permission  to  bring  a  Yankee  girl  to  share  his  paternal 
benediction.  Since  his  strength  and  ability  to  look  after  his 
own  affairs  was  abated,  his  estate  had  become  ill-managed 
and  unprofitable,  and  his  neighbors  predatory,  thievish,  and 
insolent,  as  they  generally  are  toward  those  who  lack  strength 
or  spirit  to  make  themselves  feared ;  so  that  his  life  was  an 
uncomfortable  monotony  of  petty  miseries. 

His  only  daughter  Angelina  was  his  chief  society.  She 
was  some  years  older  than  Harry,  and  in  merits  and  attrac 
tions  quite  above  the  average  of  Carolina  home-raised  ladies. 
For  her  superiority  she  was  partly  indebted  to  nature,  having 
been  born  a  good-looking  and  promising  baby ;  partly  it  was 
in  her  blood,  for  she  was  a  Boynton ;  something  she  had 
gained  by  reading,  for  her  father  had  a  small  library,  —  a 
rare  possession  on  a  plantation  ;  somewhat  her  father's  soci 
ety  had  done  for  her,  for  he  was  originally  a  man  of  good 
mind,  though  rusted  by  long  residence  in  Carolina.  Her 
brother's  suggestions  and  example  had  helped  her  much,  so 
that,  though  raised  in  Carolina,  she  had  through  these  extra 
aids  attained  to  more  than  Carolina  cultivation. 


WOLFSDEN.  370 

The  mother's  lingering  and  fatal  sickness  had  prevented 
her  being  sent  away  for  education  while  young ;  and  when 
her  mother  died,  she  was  too  tall  and  plain  for  promising 
experiments,  and  her  father  too  lonely  to  spare  her.  So  he 
gave  double  advantages  to  the  brilliant  son,  and  kept  the 
plain  daughter  to  soothe  his  solitude. 

But  neither  the  brilliant  son  nor  the  plain  daughter  de 
murred  at  their  parent's  economy.  They  were  both  of  ami 
able  and  yielding  dispositions,  and  loved  each  other  spite  of 
all  disparity  of  years  and  habits.  Harry  saw  few  faults  in 
his  sister,  and  these  were  more  than  atoned  for  by  her  affec 
tion  ;  and  Angelina  thought  her  brother  faultless. 

Their  plantation  home  was  in  Beaufort  County,  North 
Carolina.  Judging  from  its  name,  we  might  suppose  it  a  very 
pretty  place.  A  brief  description  will  enable  readers  to  ap 
preciate  the  appropriateness  of  its  pretty  name. 

Beaufort  County  lies  around  the  head  of  Pamlico  Sound, 
and  is  traversed  by  Pamlico  river.  Pamlico  Sound  is  an 
extensive  sheet  of  half-stagnant  water.  It  is  a  thin  sheet. 
and  a  very  dirty  one.  Navigators,  laboriously  paddling  their 
cypress  canoes  two  or  three  miles  distant  from  the  shore, 
drag  their  keel  through  the  sludge,  and  leave  a  muddy  wake 
behind.  Huge  snakes  and  lizard-like  reptiles  abound  in  the 
rank,  unsightly  vegetation  which  surrounds  and  covers  the 
flat  islands  that  in  many  places  elevate  themselves  a  few 
inches  above  the  water's  surface,  to  an  extent  sometimes  of 
several  acres,  though  generally  of  but  a  few  rods.  Slimy 
crabs,  and  testaceous  reptiles,  and  sluggish,  unwholesome  fish, 
swim  or  crawl  where  the  water  is  deep  enough.  Black  cypress 
swamps  mostly  bound  the  view,  except  toward  the  sea,  whicb 


3SO  W  0  L  F  S  D  13  N  . 

cannot  he  seen,  for  long  reaches  of  dry  sand-banks  intervene, 
This  is  Pamlico  Sound. 

The  dry  sand-banks,  and  the  cypress  swamps,  and  creeks, 
called  "  branches,"  bordered  with  extensive  marsh,  covered 
with  tall,  coarse,  useless  grass,  and  the  pine  barrens  beyond, 
make  up  the  territory  about  Pamlico  Sound;  and  this  is  the 
lower  part  of  the  county  called  Beaufuit. 

Pamlico  river  runs,  or  rather  creeps,  into  the  upper  end 
of  Pamlico  Sound.  It  intersects  the  upper  part  of  Beaufort 
County,  which  answers  nearly  to  the  description  of  the  lower 
part ;  only  the  water  of  the  river  is  somewhat  less  stagnant 
than  that  of  the  sound,  and  the  land  is  more  embellished  with 
pine  barrens,  and  less  adorned  with  cypress  swamps,  "  branch 
es,"  and  marshes.  Sometimes  a  ridge  of  oak-land  is  seen,  or  a 
mixed  and  tangled  wood  of  hard  pine,  loblolly,  gum-tree,  &c., 
thick  with  rank  mildewy  vines  and  parasitic  plants.  But  the 
prevailing  feature  is  a  sandy  plain,  sometimes  warted  with 
eandy  hillocks,  and  furrowed  by  deep  galleys,  but  mostly  of 
an  irregular  monotonous  level,  covered  with  shrubs  and  coarse 
grass,  and  scattered  pitch-pines,  dwarfish,  scarred,  hacked, 
denuded  of  their  bark  for  many  feet  from  the  ground,  and 
covered  with  dripping  turpentine  "  scrape."  This  beautiful 
region  is  the  upper  and  remaining  part  of  the  County  of 
Beaufort. 

At  the  upper  end  of  Beaufort  County,  at  the  head  of  the 
shallow  navigation  of  Pamlico  river,  is  a  town,  equal  in  ex 
tent  (but  not  in  neatness,  convenience,  taste,  or  wealth)  to 
an  average  New  England  village  ;  and  it  is  dignified  with 
the  title  of  "city,"  —  WASHINGTON  CITY.  The  population 
numbers  a  little  more  than  two  thousand,  of  all  shades  of 
color,  from  dingy  white  to  decided  bin  ok  ;  and  equal  variety 


WOLFSDEN.  381 

of  moral  and  intellectual  complexion,  beginning  not  too  high 
in  the  scale,  and  ranging  downward  indefinitely.  Such  is  the 
circle  of  society  in  the  North  Carolina  Washington  City. 

In  little  shops  are  displayed  coarse  miscellaneous  goods, — 
sometimes  a  horse-load,  and  sometimes  a  pedler's  pack  full ; 
and  the  sallow,  cadaverous  possessor  lies  at  length  upon  the 
counter,  saturated  with  whiskey,  shaking  with  fever  and  ague, 
and  smoking  a  pipe  or  cigar.  And  this  is  a  North  Carolina 
city  merchant. 

Hanged  along  the  foot  pathway  (which  serves  also  as  gut 
ter)  are  little  stalls,  or  booths,  where  superannuated  slaves, 
worn  out  with  labor  and  the  lash,  tempt  passengers  with  gin- 
gerrpop,  sweet  cakes,  and  like  luxuries,  whereby  they  earn  a 
few  dimes  weekly,  to  pay  their  magnanimous  masters  for  the 
rent  of  their  own  out-worn  bodies. 

Sometimes  sweet,  molasses-looking  damsels,  dressed  in 
cheap  finery,  parade  in  frequented  places,  and  with  winning 
Bmiles  and  siren  songs  entice  the  sentimental  swain  to  the 
soft  delights  of  southern  life;  and  these  blissful  belles  also 
pay  so  much  per  week  to  their  noble-minded  masters  and 
delicate  mistresses  for  the  rent  of  their  own  bodies  —  and 
souls. 

Sometimes  a  sentimental  journeyer  (not  a  STERNE,  for  he 
hated  slavery),  seeing  those  petty  traders  and  these  contented- 
looking  courtesans,  with  their  flaunting  dresses  and  enticing 
looks,  and,  though  perhaps  a  divine,  not  divining  the  meaning 
of  all  he  sees,  even  though  enforced  by  "  rhetorical  liftings 
of  the  leg,"*  is  "  deeply  affected  with  patriotic  feeling;  "  and 
ere  he  lays  him  down  to  sleep,  and  prays  the  Lord  his  soul  to 

*  Sec  Rev.  Dr.  Nehenriah  Adams'  "  South  Side  View  of  Slavery." 


382  WOLFSDEN. 

keep,  he  writes  another  chapter  in  his  book,  which  he  fondly 
hopes  "may  quiet  northern  sentiment." 

Paltry  scenes  tire  the  beholder,  and  we  will  not  further 
describe  the  city  but  by  comparison.  It  is  better  than  Tim- 
buctoo  or  Booriboola-gha.  It  is  worse  than  Paris,  or  Pekin, 
or  St.  Petersburg.  The  travelled  reader  may,  from  these 
data,  classify  the  city  of  Washington  in  North  Carolina. 

The  reader  will  be  glad  to  escape  from  this  same  city.  He 
may  do  so  (if  white).  There  are  various  directions  of  egress. 
He  may  take  a  canoe  and  paddle  down  the  Pamlico  ;  or  he 
may  take  a  plank  and  pole  up  the  Tar  river  ;  or  he  may  take 
stage  and  go  north  or  south.  Let  us  take  stage  and  go  north, 
by  all  means. 

Wearily  borne  along  in  a  vehicle  that  creaks,  and  flaps, 
and  jerks  violently,  though  it  scarcely  moves  ahead ;  that 
jolts,  and  pitches,  though  there  are  no  obstructing  stones  or 
solid  soil ;  buried  beneath  its  felloes  in  yielding  sand  ;  buried 
all  over  in  a  cloud  of  dust  just  large  enough  to  envelop  and 
suffocate  us ;  dragged  slowly  along,  with  writhing,  wriggling 
progress,  by  skeletons  of  hungry  horses,  driven  by  a  dirty, 
drunken,  pipe-smoking  coachman,  —  still  it  is  something  to 
be  going,  or  at  least  heading,  north.  The  slow  tortoise  won 
the  race  at  last,  and  the  history  of  his  travels  may  console 
us.  At  any  rate,  we  are  now  at  the  bottom  of  fortune's 
wheel,  and,  though  it  turn  but  as  slowly  as  the  creaking  four 
which  bear  us,  it  may  bring  us  upward  at  last. 

Looking  from  either  crisped,  torn  leather  window,  the  same 
sandy,  scathed,  pitch-pine,  scrub-oak  monotony  prevails.  We 
have  travelled  half  a  day  at  a  rate  somewhere  between  that 
of  a  snail  and  a  streak  of  lightning,  and  find  ourselves  almost 
in  sight  of  something.  By  and  by  we  see  it.  It  is  a  planta- 


WOLFSDEN.  383 

tion.  It  is  an  oasis  in  a  sandy  waste,  —  not  exactly  an 
Eden,  but  pretty  fair  by  contrast. 

There  is  a  two-story  whited  house,  surrounded  by  a  piazza, 
and  shaded  by  various  shrubbery.  Apple-trees,  and  fig-trees, 
and  peach-trees,  that  should  bear  and  will  not  bear,  and  per 
simmon-trees,  that  should  not  bear  and  will  bear,  and  some 
climbing  scentless  roses,  and  briers  that  are  not  sweet,  com 
prise  a  scanty  paradise.  The  negro  "  quarters,"  some  twenty 
rods  distant,  complete  the  view  of  the  two  extremes  of  south 
ern  life,  —  scarcely  tolerable  luxury  here,  scarcely  endurable 
wretchedness  there. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  carriage-way  to  the  lordly  mansion 
stand  two  painted  gate-posts  with  a  high  cross-beam.  The 
gate  is  broken  ;  but  we  will  pause  by  the  gate-posts,  for  on 
them  our  present  history  hinges. 

Some  forty  years  ago  a  traveller  from  the  north  came  in 
view  of  this  gate,  then  newly  erected.  He  drove  his  own 
high-spirited  horse,  and  rode  in  his  own  elegant  sulky,  and 
he  was  a  high-spirited  and  elegant  young  man.  He  drove 
leisurely,  for  his  object  was  pleasure  and  observation.  His 
horse  saw  the  gate  too,  and  pricked  up  his  ears.  It  was 
worth  his  while.  A  dozen  children,  of  various  complexions, 
were  playing  about  the  gate,  climbing  the  posts,  and  ventur 
ing  with  fearful  steps  across  upon  the  overarching  beam. 

Among  them  was  one  so  far  superior  to  the  rest  as  to 
eeem  like  a  being  of  another  sphere.  She  was  a  vision  of 
all-surpassing  loveliness.  Her  head  was  adorned  with  a 
slight  wreath  of  flowers,  which  the  children  in  their  gay 
mood  had  woven.  Her  rich  golden  hair  fell  in  profuse  and 
golden  curls  upon  her  neck  and  shoulders,  of  faultless  form 
and  grace.  Her  deep  blue  eyes  were'  fraught  with  beaut}', 


384  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

gentleness,  and  intelligence.  Her  transparent,  pure-veined 
complexion,  heightened  by  sportive  exercise,  excelled  the 
artist's  highest  skill.  Her  form  was  a  model  of  symmetry 
and  active  elegance.  Her  movements  were  spirited,  yet 
graceful ;  youthful,  yet  dignified.  She  was  twelve  or  thir 
teen  years  old  ;  just  budding  from  lovely  childhood  into  love 
lier  maidenhood.  Her  companions  were  as  the  dusky  attend 
ants  of  some  peerless  Circassian  queen. 

The  traveller  —  we  may  as  well  tell  his  name  —  was  Mr. 
Pelham  Boynton,  then  of  New  York,  —  all  unconscious  of 
the  years  and  cares  which  have  since  whitened  his  head,  and 
furrowed  his  cheek,  and  weighed  down  his  heart.  He  was 
fresh  and  buoyant  with  youth,  and  health,  and  hope.  He 
had  taste  to  appreciate  and  a  heart  to  love  the  beautiful. 
He  was  educated  a  gentleman,  and  had  the  address  by  which 
even  a  stranger  may  make  himself  acceptable.  Leisure  and 
observation  were  his  objects.  He  came  near  the  merry- 
hearted  group  before  he  was  seen  by  them,  so  intent  were 
they  on  their  play. 

He  bowed,  and  addressed  the  beauty,  who  received  his 
courtesy  gracefully,  and  invited  him  to  alight  and  see  her 
father.  Relying  upon  the  famed  hospitality  oT  the  planter 
(a  hospitality  which  the  want  of  society  will  stimulate  in  the 
most  churlish  hearts,  especially  as  it  costs  little  and  has 
seldom  occasion  for  exercise),  he  accepted  the  invitation,  and 
was  introduced  to  the  father,  General  Bateman. 

General  Bateman  was  really  a  hospitable  and  generous- 
hearted  man.  He  was  pleased  with  the  traveller,  and, 
learning  his  objects,  invited  him  to  pass  some  days,  or 
weeks,  at  his  plantation,  —  the  name  of  which  was  Oak- 
ridge. 


WOLFSDEN.  385 

This  was  the  commencement  of  an  acquaintance  which 
ripened  into  the  warmest  friendship  and  closest  connection. 
Mr.  Boynton  became  deeply  in  love  with  the  beautiful  daugh 
ter, —  it  could  not  be  otherwise.  Their  love  was  mutual.  The 
generous  father  was  happy  to  promote  the  happiness  of  his 
daughter  and  his  friend;  and  he  joined  them  in  marriage,  stip 
ulating  that  they  should  reside  on  the  plantation,  at  least  for 
the  present.  Their  blissful  honey-moon  lasted  many  months, 
many  years.  Her  name  was  Angelina.  She  became  the 
mother  of  the  present  Angelina  and  of  Harry. 

Meanwhile  the  old  general  became  infirm.  His  estate  had 
long  been  embarrassed,  and  himself  harassed  with  mortgages. 
Mr.  Boynton,  when  he  found  out  his  situation, -relieved  him  ; 
and  at  length  the  planter  proposed  to  sell  to  his  son-in-law 
his  plantation,  with  its  slaves  and  other  property.  Mr. 
Boynton  bought  the  estate,  and  thus  became  a  Carolina, 
planter.  The  general  lived  as  before,  only  more  happily. 
AVhen  he  died,  he  left  his  remaining  property  to  Mr. 
Boynton. 

The  reader  now  sees  how  our  history,  so  far  at  least  as 
Harry  is  concerned,  hinges  upon  the  gate-posts  aforesaid. 
Had  they  not  been  erected,  the  children  would  not  have 
played  about  them  ;  Mr.  Boynton  would  not  have  seen 
Angelina,  but  would  have  passed  on  his  way ;  and  there 
would  have  been  no  Harry  Boynton,  and  no  history  of 
him. 

Thus  far  this  retrospect,  though  brief,  is  pleasant.  But 
there  is  a  sad  side  to  it.  The  beautiful,  the  angelic  Ange 
lina,  was,  by  Carolina  law,  a  slave.  Her  mother,  fair  and 
beautiful  as  herself,  was  descended  from  some  great-great- 
grandmother,  kidnapped  from  some  unhappy  mother,  Afri- 
33 


386  WOLFSDEN. 

can,  American,  European,  or  Indian  (for  all  races  are  made 
to  contribute  to  the  stock  of  slavery). 

General  Baieman  had  married  Angelina's  mother,  but  that 
fact  did  not  change  her  legal  relation  as  his  slave.  He  would 
have  given  her  a  deed  of  emancipation,  for  he  loved  and 
prized  her  above  every  other  possession  ;  but  he  was  procras 
tinating,  and  hated  to  recur  to  the  fact  that  his  beloved  wife 
was  legally  a  slave.  Also  he  supposed  himself  beyond  the  reach 
of  adversity,  and  thought  not  of  what  might  happen  after  his 
death ;  and  so  the  good  and  beautiful  wife  of  General  Bateman, 
and  his  fair,  angelic  daughter  Angelina,  who  of  course  followed 
her  mother's  condition,  were,  and  remained  slaves. 

When  General  Bateman  gave  the  beautiful  Angelina  in 
marriage  to  Mr.  Boynton,  he  did  not  think  it  necessary  to 
tell  the  fact  of  her  legal  condition.  He  expected  to  continue 
to  live  ;  perhaps  thought  of  no  other  alternative.  He  could 
not  become  bankrupt,  and  so  it  was  needless  to  mention  the 
disagreeable  subject,  since  Angelina  must  of  course  be  safe 
while  he  lived  ;  and  even  if  he  died,  the  heir  was  not  likely 
to  claim  Angelina  as  a  slave,  and  would  naturally  sup 
pose  that  he  had  emancipated  her  mother,  and  thus  made 
them  both  free.  To  guard  against  contingency,  so  far  as  the 
estate  was  concerned,  he  made  the  arrangement  by  which  the 
plantation  and  other  property  became  Mr.  Boynton's  by  pur 
chase,  leaving  only  his  most  precious  possession,  his  beloved 
wife,  at  the  mercy  of  chance  and  Carolina  slave-law. 

When  General  Bateman  died,  his  daughter,  the  wife  of 
Mr.  Boynton,  and  her  children,  Harry  and  Angelina,  became 
the  "  property  "  of  Timothy  Bateman,  legal  heir  of  General 
Bateman ;  but  Timothy  was  a  half-brother,  and  something 
of  a  man,  and  therefore  he  did  not  interfere  to  claim  his 


WOLFSDEN.  387 

property,  by  which  forbearance  Mrs.  Boynton  lived  and  died 
in  ignorance  of  her  legal  condition  and  danger.  Timothy 
Bateman  lived  till  about  the  time  when  Harry  came  home 
from  Wolfsden  to  make  preparation  for  his  future  bride. 
When  Tim  Bateman  died,  his  estate  fell  into  possession  of  a 
mean,  miserable,  miserly  fellow,  named  Marshy,  who  lived 
near  Pamlico  river.  Marshy  had  married  Tim's  only  daugh 
ter,  and  had  a  minor  son ;  therefore  Marshy  came  into  pos 
session  of  the  estate  as  guardian  of  his  son. 

Tim  Bateman's  daughter  would  .never  have  stooped  to 
marry  Marshy,  but  for  having  already  stooped  to  an  unlaw 
ful  intimacy  with  one  of  her  father's  servants,  whereby  her 
reputation  was  smutched.  It  made  no  difference  with  Marshy. 
Her  father  was  wealthy,  and  willing  to  give  a  good  sum  of 
money  and  a  plantation  on  Pamlico  river,  to  get  his  daughter 
off  his  hands,  even  to  Marshy ;  and  finally,  as  we  have  seen, 
the  whole  estate  of  Tim  Bateman,  including  Mr.  Pelham 
Boynton's  children  (for  his  wife  was  now  dead),  fell  by  law 
into  the  possession  of  Marshy. 

This  monstrous  and  horrible  fact,  the  legitimate  result  of 
slave-law,  should  be  stated  more  emphatically.  Harry  Boyn 
ton,  the  noble-hearted,  highly-accomplished  gentleman,  and 
his  sister  Angelina,  were  legally  slaves  of  the  mean-souled, 
miserly,  and  ignorant  Marshy  ! 

But  the  principal  parties  knew  not  of  this  fact,  and  were 
therefore  unlikely  to  be  affected  by  it.  Harry  never  sus 
pected  that  his  honored  mother  was  in  law  a  slave  ;  nor  had 
Tim  Bateman  ever  told  Marshy,  or  any  others  of  his  family, 
of  the  fact.  It  belonged  to  a  Yankee  lawyer,  belonging  by 
birth  to  the  noblest  country  under  heaven,  member  of  a  pro 
fession  founded  on  the  noblest  uses  of  man's  highest  powers, 


388  WOLFSDEN. 

to  a  Yankee  lawyer,  or  rather  pettifogger,  to  ferret  out  this 
opportunity  of  perpetrating  villany  in  the  name  of  law. 

The  name  of  this  vampyre  was  Buzzard,  of  a  breed  prom 
inent  in  the  annals  of  infamy.  He  came  from  Massachusetts, 
and  settled  in  the  Washington  City,  North  Carolina,  already 
described.  Would  that  all  of  his  race  were  there  !  He  came 
of  various  stock,  but  all  of  like  character.  Kidnappers, 
slave-hunters,  and  other  traitors  to  humanity,  were  his  chief 
progenitors.  They  are  a  well-known  ancestry,  of  different 
grades  of  society,  but  of.  one  original  stock.  By  the  opera 
tion  of  some  hidden  laws  of  generation,  he  inherited  the  vilest 
qualities  of  them  all. 

This  fellow,  a  fit  agent  and  tool  of  Carolina  law,  began  his 
crooked  career  by  looking  up  and  encouraging  litigation 
among  those  who  had  more  money  than  good  sense  or  good 
nature,  and  by  finding  out  loopholes  and  evasions  for  rurnsell- 
ers  and  other  petty  violators  of  law.  He  tried  the  trade  of 
politics,  and  figured  successively  as  an  abolitionist,  an  anti- 
mason,  and  a  democrat,  offering  himself  to  all  bidders,  and 
gaining  the  sobriquet  of  "the  soldier  of  fortune;  "  and  now 
he  speculated  in  slave-hunting,  kidnapping,  hunting  up  flaws 
in  titles  to  estates  and  titles  to  freedom,  so  that  by  these 
ingenious  enterprises  he  turned  many  a  pretty  penny. 

In  the  assiduous  pursuit  of  his  vocation,  he  had  ferreted 
out  the  legal  relations  of  the  Batemans  and  Boyntons,  and 
after  the  death  of  General  Bateman  he  offered  his  services 
to  Timothy  Bateman,  the  uncle,  to  reduce  the  young  Boyn 
tons  to  slavery,  or  compel  their  father  to  pay  a  high  price  for 
their  freedom.  Tim  declined  his  offer,  and  so  Buzzard  filed 
away  the  papers,  and  waited  for  Tim's  death.  When  that 
took  place,  and  Marshy  became,  in  effect,  his  heir,  he  posted 


WOLFSDEN.  889 

to  Marshy  with  the  same  offer.  Marshy  was  ready  to  turn  a 
penny,  honest  or  otherwise,  provided  no  risk  was  incurred ; 
and  Buzzard  concluded  a  bargain  with  him,  by  which  Marshy 
should  have  half  the  profits,  but  be  subject  to  no  costs  in  case 
of  failure. 

At  the  present  period  of  this  history,  Buzzard  was  engaged 
in  looking  up  and  linking  together  his  evidence,  so  as  to 
strike  sure.  Much  caution  was  required,  lest  his  object 
should  get  wind.  He  must  find  or  feign  other  business,  and 
make  acquaintance  in  different  families,  and  introduce  his 
subject  indirectly  ;  and,  after  finding  out  who  knew  exactly 
what  he  wanted  to  prove,  he  must  then  carefully  sound  the 
temper,  sentiment,  simplicity,  or  shrewdness,  of  the  individual, 
and  work  upon  his  or  her  weakness,  avarice,  envy,  self-conceit, 
or  other  folly,  to  secure  and  make  available  what  might  serve 
his  purpose.  All  this  mining,  and  burrowing,  and  tamper 
ing,  takes  time,  so  that  many  months  transpired  before  his 
web  of  evidence  was  complete,  and  he  thought  safe  to  try  its 
strength. 

Mealitime  Harry  was  forming  plans  of  a  happy  and  noble 
life.  Whatever  a  magnanimous  mind  can  conceive,  the  ardor 
of  youth  and  conscious  genius  counts  as  practicable.  Since 
his  nobler  faculties  had  become  awakened,  he  had  reflected 
upon  the  value  of  life  as  a  means  of  advancing  noble  princi 
ples,  of  promoting  noble  purposes,  and  accomplishing  noble 
ends.  "The  elevation  of  humanity,"  said  he,  "is  the  noblest 
work  of  life.  Whoever  employs  his  talents  in  this  direction 
advances  toward  a  higher  sphere ;  and  whether  he  raises 
others  or  not,  he  at  least  elevates  himself.  His  efforts  may 
pot  seem  fruitful  of  immediate  results,  but,  if  man  is  immor 
tal,  it  will  be  his  great  reward  to  contemplate  the  progress 
33* 


o  JO  WOLFSDEN. 

of  the  good  which  he  began,  and  to  see  it  go  on  increasing 
forever." 

His  destined  position  as  a  slaveholder  engaged  his  earnest 
thought.  AYhile  a  student  in  Harvard  University,  some 
sparks  from  Channing's  mind  had  electrified  his  understand 
ing,  and  left  an  ineffaceable  impression  of  the  wrong  of  hold 
ing  human  beings  in  slavery,  llecollecting  that  such  senti 
ments  might  become  inconvenient  to  the  son  and  heir  of  a 
slaveholder,  he  attended  other  churches  in  Boston,  to  get  the 
impressions  rubbed  out ;  bat  the  imbecile  and  canting  defences 
and  apologies  which  he  heard  only  provoked  his  contempt. 

"  Surely,"  said  he,  "  if  slavery  requires  such  prevarication 
of  truth,  such  perversion  of  religion,  such  prostitution  of  prin 
ciple,  and  stultifying  of  common  sense,  in  its  behalf,  there 
must  be  something  wrong  in  it."  And  so  he  set  his  genius 
to  devise  a  way  to  correct  the  wrong  without  attacking  the 
institution,  —  to  prune  the  upas-tree  without  destroying  it. 

"  I  will  educate  my  slaves,"  said  he  ;  "  the  laws  forbid  it, 
but,  since  the  laws  to  prevent  excessive  cruelty  to  slaves  are 
violated  with  impunity,  I  may  with  equal  impunity  disregard 
those  which  are  made  to  degrade  them.  Such  as  show  a 
capacity  for  freedom  I  will  encourage  to  purchase  their  free 
dom,  and  aid  them  to  settle  where  they  can  do  well.  I  will 
promote  the  comfort  and  good  morals  of  my  slaves,  and  rule 
them  by  good  will,  and  not  by  fear.  I  will  make  myself 
their  guardian  and  benefactor,  more  than  their  master." 

It  may  seem  strange  that  the  son  of  a  slaveholder,  reared 
among  the  practical  workings  of  slavery,  should  suppose  it  pos 
sible  to  effect  any  real  good  for  slaves  without  first  emancipat 
ing  them,  and  removing  them  from  the  region  of  its  influence. 
But  he  had  not  spent  many  of  his  maturer  years  at  home,  and 


WOLFSDEN.  391 

had  not  reflected  upon  the  inevitable  operations  of  arbitrary 
power ;  and  if  he  foresaw  difficulties,  he  trusted  to  overcome 
them.  He  talked  over  his  prospects  and  his  plans  with  Mar 
garet,  and  she  shared  his  enthusiasm,  —  and  they  perhaps 
already  fancied  themselves  the  patriarch  and  patriarchess  of 
an  Abrahamic  household. 


CHAPTEK    XXX. 


So  they  were  married,  and  there  were  present  the  Picninnics,  and  the 
Joblillies,  and  tbe  great  Panjandrum  himself,  with  the  little  round 
button  on  the  top.  —  FOOTE. 

THERE  are  joys  which  we  most  enjoy  when  the  world  wit 
nesses  the  enjoyment.  There  are  pains  that  please,  because 
they  impart  fame. 

Ilomancing  fledglings  of  youth  most  delight  in  dazzling 
delights,  and  spurn  the  dull  happiness  which  challenges  no 
admiration.  Why  do  lovers  roll  the  eyes  in  ecstasy,  or  clasp 
the  heaving  breast  in  anguish,  and  call  upon  the  winds  to 
waft  their  sighs  and  the  briny  waves  to  receive  their  tears? 
It  is  that  the  admiring  world  may  write  their  names  on  the 
sentimental  page,  and  that  the  muse  may  chant  their  plain 
tive  story. 

But  the  sober,  solid  joy  of  maturer  manhood  asks  no  ap 
plause  of  others.  The  possessor  is  content  to  possess,  and 
cares  not  to  awaken  the  astonishment  or  envy  of  the  world. 
In  his  own  heart  he  rejoices  unboastingly.  He  displays 
no  ecstatic  raptures.  He  locks  his  sterling  gold  in  strong 
though  homely  coffers,  and  sobers  his  brows  to  unpretending 
vontent. 


WOLFSDEX.  393 

But  the  muse  of  history  lags.  No  entrancing  scenes,  no 
thrilling  hopes  and  fears,  point  the  recording  pen.  The 
world  will  not  admire  what  was  only  made  for  use,  and  a 
useful  life  is  of  all  lives  the  most  useless  to  fancy's  page. 

Thus  by  marriage,  as  surely  as  by  death,  the  admired 
actors  slip  from  the  stage,  and  are  seen  no  more.  When 
people  are  married,  their  story  is  told.  What  more  can  be 
said  of  them  ?  Shall  we  surfeit  fancy's  guests  with  home 
brewed  beer  ?  Shall  we  stuff  the  muses  with  plain  beef  and 
pudding  ?  Shall  we  write  a  chapter,  in  a  history  like  this, 
upon  the  subjects  of  common  life  ?  Let  us  put  them  in  skel 
eton  order.  See  the  synopsis  : 

"  Married  in  Wolfsden,  Thanksgiving  day,  by  Rev.  Parson 
Boreman,  Mr.  Hezekiah  Hobart,  of  Saco,  to  Miss  Helen 
Arbor."  —  ".Honey-moon  —  Settled  down  —  Humdrum  — 
Contented  lot  —  Every-day  life  —  Washing-day  life  —  Iron 
ing-day  life  —  Sunday  life  —  Jog  trot  —  Petty  cares  —  Dull 
visitors  come  —  Go  to  see  dull  company  —  Linen  to  make 
up  —  Doctor  —  Cradle — Plot  thickens  —  Culminating  point 

—  Baly  —  Grandmother  comes  —  '  As  well  as  could  be  ex 
pected  '  —  Wonderful    child  —  Teething  —  Ilattle  —  Cries 
for  moon  —  Baby  talk  —  Measles  —  Rocking-horse  —  Bread 
and  butter  —  Whooping-cough  —  ABC  —  Sled  —  Satchel 

—  Quarterly  bills  —  Economy  —  Small  leaks  —  Schemes  to 
get  and  save  —  Daughters'  portions  —  Sons'  settlements." 

Behold  the  materials  of  the  matrimonial  chapter.  Let 
some  aspiring  child  of  genius  try  his  teeth  upon  the  dry 
crusts,  but  let  no  dull  descriptions  compel  my  courteous 
reader  to  doze  over  the  drowsy  page. 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 


LOVE  makes  strange  metamorphoses.  It  converts  a  clown 
into  a  gentleman,  a  plodding  mechanic  into  an  airy  spark ; 
or,  reversing  its  operations,  it  puts  a  distaff  into  the  hands  of 
a  hero,  and  presents  a  spade  and  hoe  to  the  delicate  palm  of 
the  dainty-bred  scholar. 

Harry,  the  gay,  generous,  enthusiastic,  sentimental  lover, 
became  a  practical,  energetic,  efficient  husbandman.  He 
planned  improvements,  and  calculated  their  advantages.  He 
inspected  the  fields  ;  inquired  the  history  "of  their  cultivation, 
their  productiveness,  the  adaptation  of  different  soils  and 
different  modes  of  culture  to  various  products,  and  the  profit 
of  each ;  and  estimated  to  what  extent  animal  labor  might  be 
substituted  for  that  of  men,  and  what  new  implements  might 
profitably  be  introduced. 

At  Alek's  suggestion,  he  had  brought  various  tools  from 
New  York,  of  a  construction  and  quality  very  different  from 
Carolina  tools.  There  were  ploughs,  and  yokes,  and  harrows, 
and  hoes,  and  twenty  other  things,  to  take  the  place  of  the 
clumsy,  inefficient  contrivances  with  which  the  plantation  had 
been  worked.  To  one  of  his  most  intelligent  slaves  he  en 
deavored  to  impart  the  teamster's  art,  as  he  had  seen  it  prac 
tised  in  Wolfsden ;  and,  notwithstanding  his  own  small  expe- 


WOLFSDEN.  395 

rience,  and  the  awkwardness  of  the  slave  and  the  oxen,  he 
soon  showed  them  that  two  teamsters,  at  most,  were  sufficient 
to  manage  one  pair  of  cattle,  and  that  the  plough  had  capa 
bilities  beyond  the  mere  scratching  of  the  surface  of  the 
soil. 

He  examined  the  negro  quarters,  and,  though  they  were 
more  comfortable  than  on  most  plantations  in  North.  Caro 
lina,  where  they  are  generally  better  than  further  south,  still 
he  found  much  to  mend,  about  which  he  gave  directions,  and 
also  gave  the  occupants  the  time  and  materials  necessary  for 
the  improvements,  and  although  he  soon  found  that  enslaved 
human  nature  is  little  capable  of  enterprise,  trustworthiness, 
sincerity,  economy,  or  any  of  the  virtues  of  self-respecting 
manhood,  and  that  whatever  may  be  done  to  ameliorate  the 
slave's  wretchedness  serves  chiefly  to  awaken  hopes  and 
stimulate  desires  incompatible  with  his  condition,  yet  he 
persevered,  and  in  improving  their  outward  comforts  and 
decencies  hoped  that  he  had  already  done  something  toward 
their  real  elevation. 

It  cannot  be  known  what  might  have  been  the  final  result 
of  his  progress,  after  coming  into  possession  of  the  estate ; 
for  while  his  father  lived  he  would  not  presume  upon  any 
radical  measures,  and  after  his  father's  death  his  own  course 
was  suddenly  arrested  in  a  way  which  the  reader  may  have 
already  foreseen.  It  is  probable  that  his  growing  convictions 
of  duty,  and  his  experience  of  the  futility  of  half-way  reform, 
would  finally  have  led  him  to  emancipate  his  slaves  from 
servitude,  and  himself  from  the  responsibility  of  managing 
human  beings  by  any  means,  however  mild,  which  denies  the 
exercise  of  man's  noblest  birthright  —  the  free  exercise  of  his 
will.  Perhaps  his  gradually  advancing  soul  might  have  risen 


896  WOLFSDEN. 

in  the  scale  of  justice  and  magnanimity,  till  his  tongue  would 
have  been  compelled  to  utter  the  thrilling  words,  "  Be  free  ! 
0  man,  be  free  !  " 

At  first,  his  plans  of  improvement  could  not  be  expected 
to  flow  wholly  in  this  channel.  His  approaching  happiness, 
the  preparation  of  his  home  for  his  coming  bride,  and  all 
bright. visions  of  the  fancied  future,  filled  his  soul. 

"  I  will  give  to  my  home,"  said  he,  "  all  the  outward  per 
fections  and  beauty  it  is  capable  of,  till  she,  the  soul  of  beauty 
and  perfection,  shall  come  to  give  it  life.  When  it  is  made 
worthy  to  receive  her,  it  will  need  no  other  adornment  but 
her  presence.  It  will  then  be  an  Eden  of  happy  joys,  and 
hopes,  and  attainments,  that  shall  ripen  unto  immortality." 

The  home  wherein  Harry  promised  himself  so  much  happi 
ness  certainly  seemed  to  possess  great  capabilities.  Bating 
the  climate,  which,  even  with  the  best  circumstances,  slackens 
and  unstrings  the  firm  fibres  of  the  human  frame,  on  which 
life's  vigorous  use  and  enjoyments,  both  bodily  and  mental, 
depend  ;  and  bating  the  deteriorating  effect  of  isolation  from 
cultivated  society,  by  which  alone  the  human  faculties  can  be 
stimulated  and  balanced  to  produce  their  best  results ;  and 
bating  the  restriction  upon  free  thought  and  free  action,  ex 
cept  in  accordance  with  institutions  and  usages  hostile  to  gen 
erous  thoughts  and  just  acts  ;  and  making  some  other  necessary 
deductions  from  what  a  New  Englander  includes  in  the  idea 
of  independence,  and  comfort,  and  home,  Oakridge  was  a 
delightful  place,  —  something  dilapidated,  but  so  much  the 
better  for  one  bent  on  improvement. 

The  house  stood  upon  an  eminence,  which  declined  thence 
toward  the  road  and  toward  the  south,  but  gradually  ascended 
toward  the  north  and  west,  in  which  direction  were  many 


w  o  L  F  ST>  E  N  .  397 

scattering  oaks,  irregularly  but  pleasantly  grouped,  and  grow 
ing  more  thickly  as  the  distance  increased,  till  at  length  they 
formed  a  majestic  grove,  mostly  excluding  the  sun,  yet  pro 
tecting  a  mingled  grassy  and  leafy  lawn,  where  it  was  pleas 
ant  to  wander,  and  imagine  how  sweet  would  be  such  a  soli 
tude  with  a  loved  companion  to  whom  one  could  say,  "  How 
sweet  is  solitude  !  " 

On  the  southern  slope  were  scattered  various  ornamental 
trees ;  two  or  three  magnolias,  many  china-trees,  and  beyond 
them  a  mixed  plantation  of  wild  orange,  persimmon,  pome 
granate,  and  wild  cherry.  Smaller  fruit  and  ornamental  trees 
and  shrubs  adorned  the  front  view,  among  which  were  the  fig, 
the  peach,  and  the  crab-apple,  with  rose-bushes,  syringas, 
altheas,  anemones,  &c.  An  arched  way,  covered  with  climb 
ing  roses  and  ivy,  led  to  an  embowered  summer-house ;  both 
of  which,  however,  through  neglect  and  decay,  with  the  en 
croachment  of  weeds  and  mould,  presented  an  appearance  of 
doubtful  ornament.  Over  the  court  separating  the  house 
from  the  kitchen  an  enormous  grape-vine,  supported  by  a 
rude  trellis,  spread  its  extensive  branches,  yielding  abundant 
clusters  of  the  rich  and  delicious  "  scuppernong  "  grape. 

By  Harry's  energy  and  taste,  all  these  decayed  beauties 
and  capabilities  were  restored  and  improved.  The  arched 
bower  and  summer-house  were  newly  trimmed  and  opened  to 
healthy  and  inviting  light  and  air,  and  adorned  with  plants 
of  choice  beauty  ;  camellias,  japonicas,  geraniums,  and  what 
ever  nature  makes  beautiful,  or  rarity  makes  desirable.  Trees 
and  vines  were  pruned  and  cultivated  to  invite  their  appro 
priate  fruit.  The  gate  was  newly  hinged,  and  the  house 
repaired  and  embellished. 

Upon  one  room,  whose  windows  opened  toward  the  setting 
34 


398  WOLFSDEN. 

sun  through  embowering  rose-bushes,  and  jessamines,  and 
honeysuckles,  Harry  expended  his  best  resources  and  best 
skill,  taxing  his  own  ingenuity  and  his  sister's  taste  to  ar 
range  and  adapt  the  beautiful  furniture  and  choice  books  he 
had  provided,  so  as  to  combine  the  attractions  and  elegances 
of  a  library  and  a  lady's  boudoir.  "  For,"  said  Harry,  "  our 
hearts  and  minds  will  take  some  influence  from  the  things 
about  us,  and  will  tend  more  to  refinement  and  beauty  where 
all  else  is  refined  and  beautiful." 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 


MEANTIME  many  notes  of  preparation  were  heard  in  Wolfs- 
den.  Margaret  threw  aside  her  sketch-book  and  other  idle 
amusements,  and  took  to  the  spinning-wheel  and  other 
thrifty  implements  of  female  industry.  It  were  vain  to 
recount  the  webs  of  linen,  coarse  and  fine  ;  of  flannel,  thick 
and  thin;  of  check  for  aprons,  and  stripe  for  skirts;  of 
stockings,  and  yarns,  and  threads  of  every  color,  for  knitting, 
and  darning,  and  sewing ;  of  quiltings,  and  counterpanes,  and 
comforters,  and  curtains,  which  comprise  the  fitting  out  of  a 
Yankee  bride.  Aunt  Dolly,  the  bounteous  mother,  was  deter 
mined  that  her  one  daughter  should  not  go  slenderly  fur 
nished.  And  Margaret,  prompted  by  many  admonitions  and 
stories  of  her  mother's  experience,  and  also  by  her  own  activ 
ity,  carded  and  spun  and  wove,  and  sewed  and  knit  and 
quilted,  colored  and  bleached,  till  those  who  had  depreciated 
her  housewifely  qualities  were  compelled  to  acknowledge  that 
she  might  be  good  for  something,  after  all. 

More  than  twenty  maidens,  mindful  of  customs  which 
might  some  day  bring  them  equal  advantages,  brought  their 
marriage  presents;  so  that  when  the  wedding  day  came,  a 
pile  of  chests,  and  bales,  and  bundles,  of  things  home-made 


400  VVOLFSDEN. 

or  bought,  or  given,  were  accumulated,  which  would  have 
astonished  the  pilgrims  of  the  Mayflower. 

Some  articles  of  doubtful  utility  were  presented.  Little 
Amy  brought  a  basketful  of  little  stockings  and  rnittens  of 
her  own  knitting,  requesting  that  they  should  be  given  to  the 
little  slave-girls  of  Carolina,  of  whom  she  had  heard  that 
they  had  no  stockings  and  mittens  ;  and  the  adjutant  brought 
a  hand-sled  and  a  pair  of  bantams  for  the  slave-boys. 
Billy  and  Tommy  brought  a  pair  of  pintadids,  or  Guinea- 
hens  (most  pugnacious  of  all  gallinaceous  fowl)  ;  "  These," 
said  they,  "  will  drive  away  the  hawks."  The  blue-eyed 
Chinby  daughters  sent  some  pretty  night-caps,  and  also  knit 
hoods  and  buskins,  to  keep  out  the  Carolina  snow-storms. 
LucinJa  Boreman  sent  pincushions  and  fancy-worked  moc- 
casiris  ;  and  Ax,  who,  since  his  prospect  of  becoming  a  school 
master,  had  put  away  childish  things,  sent  his  skates,  to  be 
kept  for  Margaret's  oldest  boy. 

The  wedding-day  came  as  appointed.  We  will  not  describe 
it.  All  readers  have  had,  or  hope  to  have,  a  wedding-day  of 
their  own,  compared  with  which  all  other  wedding-days  are 
but  as  fast  days.  Major  Murray  would  have  made  a  solemn 
affair  of  it,  but  the  overflowing  good-humor  of  (he  guests,  and 
the  fun  of  the  boys  and  girls,  were  too  much  for  his  solemnity 
to  repress ;  and,  recollecting  that  he  had  no  more  daughters 
to  marry,  he  let  things  go  as  they  would,  and  all  had  a  happy 
time.  Parson  Boreman  performed  the  ceremony,  and,  while 
thinking  all  the  time  of  the  old  mistake  about  the  divinity 
student,  tried  to  look  as  if  he  had  entirely  forgotten  it. 
Harry,  to  please  the  parson  and  his  new  father-in-law  by  not 
appearing  too  happy,  put  on  an  edifying  gravity,  which  made 


WOLFSDEN.  401 

Fanny  ask  Margaret,  in  a  whisper,  if  he  really  meant  to  be 
a  doctor  of  divinity. 

All  this  was  on  Thanksgiving  day.  The  happy  couple  soon 
departed  for  North  Carolina,  and  passed  the  winter  on  their 
plantation ;  and  when  the  reader  is  informed  that  they  passed 
it  happily,  he  must  conclude  that  they  carried  a  large  stock 
of  happiness  with  them,  to  outlast  the  drizzly,  dirty  dreari 
ness  of  a  Carolina  winter. 
31* 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 


SPRING,  which  chases  dulness  and  dreariness  from  its 
strongest  holds,  came  to  Oakridge,  bringing  bland  gale$,  and 
green,  flowering  turf,  and  opening  buds  and  leaves,  and  sweet 
fragrance,  and  sportive  butterflies,  and  humming  bees,  and  the 
welcome  warbling  of  many  birds. 

But  sadness  came  with  the  spring  to  Oakridge.  The  be 
loved  father,  who,  for  many  months,  had  been  declining,  but 
who  promised  to  himself  and  children  that  the  spring  would 
restore  his  health,  found  instead  that  his  life  was  passing 
away. 

He  was  prepared  to  die  ;  for  he  was  a  Christian.  To 
those  who  have  hearts  to  understand  (for  it  requires  hearts 
even  more  than  heads  to  understand)  the  wrongs  of  slavery, 
this  may  seem  impossible.  But  a  right  judgment,  formed 
from  a  just  estimate  of  all  the  circumstances,  will  not  make 
the  slaveholders  chiefly  responsible  for  the  guilt.  Compared 
with  northern  abettors  and  apologists,  and  especially  with 
those  who  press  the  Bible  into  its  support,  thus  corrupting 
the  very  fountain  of  morals  and  religion,  their  sin  is  small. 
And  there  are  some  among  them  who  sincerely  strive  to  keep 
their  hearts  and  consciences  free  from  guiltiness  toward  their 
brethren  in  bonds,  by  doing  all  they  think  practicable  to 


WOLFSDEN.  403 

lighten  and  loosen  the  yoke,  and  whom  a  little  instruction  and 
aid  would  lead  to  break  the  yoke  and  let  the  oppressed  go 
free. 

Mr.  Boynton  was  one  of  the  best  of  this  not  too  numerous 
class.  His  eyes  were  not  opened  to  see  the  radical  and  in 
herent  wrong  of  slavery.  Perhaps  the  Bible  arguments  in  its 
favor,  emanating  from  northern  theological  schools,  had  con 
vinced  him  that  slavery  was  a  divine  institution,  since  no 
answering  arguments  are  allowed  to  circulate  in  the  south. 
Yet,  though  his  religious  light  might  thus  be  turned  into 
darkness,  his  native  benevolence  and  sense  of  right  made  him 
a  kind  master,  even  to  the  extent  of  offending  the  proprietors 
of  neighboring  plantations,  who  complained  that  the  notions 
Boynton  encouraged  among  his  slaves  would  ruin  not  only 
himself,  but,  if  allowed,  would  overthrow  the  whole  system 
of  slavery  in  his  section. 

And,  indeed,  there  seemed  good  reason  for  their  animad 
versions  ;  for  it  was  very  clear  that  if  Mr.  Boynton  had  pos 
sessed  no  other  resources  than  those  derived  from  the  planta 
tion,  he  must  long  ago  have  become  bankrupt.  Such  is  the 
natural  and  necessary  waste  of  slavery,  that  nothing  short  of 
severe  and  grinding  oppression  will  make  it  profitable.  Plant 
ers  in  the  older  states,  who  have  not  the  perseverance  or  the 
heart  to  exact  all  possible  labor  from  their  slaves,  and  to 
watch  and  guard  that  they  eat  no  more  than  barely  sufficient 
to  sustain  life  and  labor,  are  frequently  obliged,  in  their  own 
phrase,  to  "  eat  a  nigger,"  namely,  to  balance  accounts  by 
the  sale  of  a  babe,  or  a  mother,  or  a  maiden,  or  a  "  boy." 

But  Mr.  Boynton  was  free  both  from  the  grinding  oppres 
sion  and  the  cannibalism  ;  and  though,  perhaps,  not  a  perfect 
Christian,  was  probably  at  least  as  good  as  many  made  by 


404  WOLFSDEN. 

the  missionaries  at  the  Fejee  or  Sandwich  islands^  or  on 
Greenland's  icy  mountains,  or  India's  coral  strand. 

We  have  alluded  to  the  church  relations  of  the  family  as 
Episcopalian.  Mr.  Boynton  was  a  faithful  churchman.  He 
had  regularly  read  prayers  to  his  slaves  on  Sundays,  and 
Angelina  constantly  instructed  them  in  the  catechism.  Often 
he  had  addressed  them  individually  and  collectively  on 
religion,  assuring  them  of  their  immortality,  and  teaching 
them  the  conditions  of  salvation. 

When  he  now  found  that  his  life  was  drawing  to  a  close, 
he  called  them  together,  and,  addressing  them  with  great 
solemnity,  told  them  of  his  approaching  death,  and  his  hope 
to  meet  them  in  heaven,  where  there  would  be  no  masters  nor 
servants,  but  where  all  would  be  brethren.  He  then  read  to 
them,  from  the  burial  service,  the  authoritative  argument  of 
St.  Paul,  proving  the  immortality  of  the  soul. 

1  Cor.  15  :  20.  —  "  Now  is  Christ  risen  from  the  dead, 
and  become  the  first  fruits  of  them  that  slept.  For  since 
by  man  came  death,  by  man  came  also  the  resurrection  of 
the  dead.  For  as  in  Adam  all  die,  even  so  in  Christ  shall 
all  be  made  alive.  *  *  Behold,  I  show  you  a  mystery : 
We  shall  not  all  sleep,  but  we  shall  all  be  changed,  in 
a  moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  at  the  last  trump. 
For  the  trumpet  shall  sound,  and  the  dead  shall  be  raised 
incorruptible,  and  we  shall  be  changed.  For  this  corruptible 
must  put  on  incorruption,  and  this  mortal  must  put  on  im 
mortality.  So  when  this  corruptible  shall  have  put  on  in 
corruption,  and  this  mortal  shall  have  put  on  immortality,  then 
shall  be  brought  to  pass  the  saying  that  is  written,  Death 
is  swallowed  up  in  victory.  0  Death,  where  is  thy  sting  ? 
O  Grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?  The  sting  of  death  is  sin, 


WOLFSDEN.  405 

and  the  strength  of  sin  is  the  law.  But  thanks  be  to  God, 
who  giveth  us  the  victory,  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
Therefore,  my  beloved  brethren,  be  ye  steadfast,  immova 
ble,  always  abounding  iu  the  work  of  the  Lord ;  forasmuch 
as  ye  know  that  your  labor  is  not  in  vain  in  the  Lord." 

Thus,  with  religious  rites  and  instructions,  and  many  part 
ing  blessings,  and  tokens  of  remembrance,  the  good  old  man 
dismissed  his  slaves,  who  lingered  and  wept  as  they  took 
their  last  earthly  leave  of  one  who  was  indeed  their  friend, 
and  with  a  little  better  knowledge  of  duty  would  have  been 
their  benefactor. 

To  his  children,  Harry,  and  Margaret,  and  Angelina,  he 
gave  many  salutary  counsels  and  consolations.  "  I  am 
going,"  said  he,  "  to  join  your  angel  mother.  Weep  not  for 
me,  for  I  go  in  peace  and  joy,  trusting  to  meet  you  again 
where  we  shall  part  no  more." 

As  his  children  knelt  by  his  side,  he  placed  his  hands  on 
their  heads,  and  gave  them  his  benediction  ;  and,  having  thus 
set  his  house  in  order,  he  gradually  sunk  to  repose. 

His  body  rests  beneath  the  bay-tree  which  spreads  its 
branches  above  yonder  grassy  knoll,  and  by  the  side  of  his 
once  beautiful  bride  —  the  lovely  Angelina. 

How  short  the  time  since  he  first  saw  her  playing  by  the 
gate  of  her  father's  dwelling,  as  he  was  journeying  to  the 
south,  when  her  beauty  had  power  to  arrest  his  journey,  and 
to  bind  him  forever  to  her  side  in  the  strong  bonds  of  undying 
love ! 

Clothed  in  celestial  bodies,  they  now  rejoice  in  a  higher 
sphere.  The  once  fair  forms  of  mortal  mould  have  served 
their  purpose,  and  now  and  evermore  they  rest  beneath  the 
bay-tree,  emblem  of  everlasting  peace. 


C  II  A  P  T  E  K    XXXIV. 


HARRY  and  Margaret  sat  in  their  favorite  room,  whose 
•windows  opened  to  the  setting  sun.  The  spring  was  far  ad 
vanced,  and  the  summer  approaching,  yet  the  prolific  rose 
bushes  still  put  forth  and  spread  their  swelling  buds,  which 
the  slight  breeze  made  to  wave  against  the  windows,  as  if 
seeking  admission  to  the  paradise  of  love,  while  the  full- 
blossomed  honeysuckle  diffused  sweet  odors  around. 

Margaret  had  been  sewing  on  some  delicate  fabric,  of  a 
form  not  as  yet  exactly  defined,  though,  perhaps,  a  practised 
eye  might  detect  its  design.  Harry  had  been  reading  to  her 
the  plaintive  ballad  of  "  The  Somnambulist,"  from  Words 
worth. 

"  Sir  Eglamore  and  Emma  loved  as  we  love,"  said  Harry, 
laying  down  the  book,  and  lifting  the  fair  hand  of  his  lovely 
wife  to  his  lips.  "  They  loved  as  we  love,  though  their  fate 
was  not  so  happy  as  ours." 

"  I  was  strongly  impressed,"  replied  Margaret,  "  by  the 
saying  of  the  wise  Greek  whom  you  read  about  the  other 
day ;  that  no  man  could  be  accounted  happy  till  the  day  of 
his  death,  for  there  is  no  happiness  in  life  so  secure  that  a 
moment  may  not  destroy  it." 

"  The  Greek's  wisdom  was  not  worth  much,"  said  Harry 


WOLFSDEN.  407 

"  if  it  teaches  us  to  undervalue  present  happiness,  because  we 
may  at  some  time  lose  it.  If  I  have  a  genius  for  anything 
it  is  for  making  the  most  of  happiness,  not  only  by  taking  all 
possible  precautions  to  secure  it,  but  also  by  appreciating  it 
while  in  possession,  even  as  now ;  "  and  the  kiss  before 
-bestowed  upon  the  fair  hand  was  now  impressed  upon  the 
lovelier  fips. 

"My  kind  husband,"  said  Margaret,  "your  genius  is 
worth  all  the  wisdom  of  all  the  Greeks  put  together.  Your 
never-failing  cheerfulness  is  like  the  sunshine  which  makes 
everything  pleasant ;  otherwise  I  fear  that,  with  all  my  hap 
piness  in  your  love,  I  should  be  sometimes  sad." 

"  Dearest  wife,"  said  Harry,  "  I  shall  tax  my  genius  to 
chase  away  all  your  sadness.  Perhaps  what  you  told  me 
of  yesterday,  and  which  makes  me  happier  than  ever,  gives  a 
temporary  depression  to  your  spirits.  But  y.ou  must  be  kept 
cheerful  now,  for  your  health's  sake,  and  for  the  sake  of  our 
happy  hopes." 

Margaret  hid  her  face  in  her  husband's  bosom,  and  replied, 
"  Dearest,  I  am  perfectly  happy,  even  when  I  may  appear 
sad.  Do  you  not  know,"  said  she,  again  looking  up,  "  that 
the  best  happiness  does  not  always  show  outwardly,  just  as 
people  may  be  very  mirthful  with  no  happiness  at  all  ?  How 
merry  the  slaves  often  appear,  though  we  know  that  their  lot 
is  not  only  wretched,  but  that  they  feel  it  to  be  so." 

"Howl  wis-h,"  said  Harry,  "  that  I  could  make  every 
body  happy  !  Do  you  think  our  servants  would  have  a  better 
chance  of  happiness  if  we  should  send  them  into  the  free 
states  ?  " 

"  I  know  that  they  think  so,"  said  Margaret,  —  "  those  of 
them  who  think  at  all,  —  and  indeed  I  think  so.  I  know 


408  WOLFSDEN. 

that  the  kindness  they  receive  from  you  is  everything  it  can 
be,  short  of  freedom ;  and  I  suppose  their  inexperience  would, 
if  free,  lead  them  into  many  hardships.  But  you  know  that 
much  of  our  happiness  comes  from  surmounting  hardships ; 
and,  at  any  rate,  the  best  chance  of  happiness  to  their  pos 
terity  would  be  in  freedom. 

"  And  I  have  some  thoughts,"  replied  Harry,  "  that  the  best 
chance  for  our  posterity  would  be  in  freedom  —  the  freedom 
of  the  free  states,  which  is  the  only  freedom  in  the  land. 
There  all  men  may  elevate  themselves,  and  others,  according 
to  their  abilities,  and  look  with  hope  instead  of  fear  upon  the 
advancement  of  just  principles,  and  the  approach  of  the  good 
time  coming." 

"  My  dear  husband,"  said  Margaret,  "  how  perfectly  united 
are  our  thoughts  !  If  we  have  children,  it  is  my  most  earnest 
prayer  that  the^  may  have  the  advantages  of  the  free  states, 
and,  if  possible,  that  their  home  may  be  there.  I  wish  for 
nothing  to  be  done  contrary  to  your  judgment ;  but  I  am  pre 
pared  for  any  sacrifice  of  position  or  property  for  this  object, 
when  you  are  ready." 

"  We  will  consider  of  this,"  said  Harry,  taking  her  hand 
and  leading  her  to  the  window,  where  they  looked  upon  the 
sunny  landscape. 

Many  humming-birds  darted  and  poised  their  tiny  forms 
of  green  and  gold  among  the  festoons  of  lithe  branches  and 
pweet  flowers  which  hung  against  the  windows,  and  mingled 
their  shadows  with  the  rays  of  the  declining  sun. 

The  orioles  sang  at  intervals  their  sweetly-wild  and  careless 
notes,  as  they  wove  their  pendent  nest  to  the  end  of  a  waving 
branch  of  a  tall  and  slender  persimmon-tree. 

A  pair  of  turtle  doves  mingled  the  varied  notes  of  their 


WOLFSDEN.  409 

plaintive  melody,  sadly  seeming,  yet  truly  joyful  in  fond  and 
faithful  love,  as  they  peered  among  the  branches  of  the  far- 
spreading  grape-vine,  now  clothed  in  its  young  leaves,  and 
putting  forth  its  clustered  blossoms. 

Two  Carolina  mocking-birds,  most  wonderful  warblers  of 
all  the  feathered  tribes,  perched  among  the  branches  of  a 
pomegranate,  poured  forth  their  inexhaustibly  various  songs, 
now  of  surpassing  and  original  beauty,  now  plagiarizing  and 
parodying  the  productions  of  every  rival  warbler. 

Many  robins  hopped  about  the  green  lawn,  and  pecked  the 
scattered  seeds  and  crumbs,  or  gathered  little  filaments  or 
feathers  to  line  their  connubial  nests,  and  ever  and  anon 
peered  around  and  above,  that  no  treacherous  beast  or  bird 
of  prey  should  take  them  unawares. 

A  peacock,  proudest  and  most  splendid  of  all  plumed  birds, 
strutted  in  sight  of  his  admiring  harem,  and  spread  his 
gorgeous  train,  reflecting  the  sun's  rays  in  forms  and  hues  of 
indescribable  splendor  and  beauty,  while  with  hollow,  mur 
muring  voice  he  expressed  his  amorous  desires. 

A  flock  of  field-sparrows  rose  like  a  cloud  from  the  twigs 
and  garden  stubble,  and  wheeled  about  in  close  phalanx,  often 
and  again  opening  and  reclosing  their  ranks,  till  they  settled 
where  they  rose,  and  vanished  from  view,  as  did  Clan  Alpine's 
warriors  true  on  Benledi's  side,  at  sign  from  Roderick 
Dhu. 

Thus  nature's  broad  bright  page  spread  forth  its  lessons  of 
love  and  joy,  teaching  how  abundant  is  the  benevolence  of 
that  Power  who  framed  the  universe  on  a  plan  of  universal, 
all-embracing  love. 

But  lessons  of  caution,  of  danger,  and  defence,  need  also  to 
be  taught.  And  while  they  looked,  a  sudden  shadow  flapped 
35 


410  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

by  the  window  and  darkened  the  sunshine.  It  was  a  mon 
strous  turkey-buzzard,  most  obscene  and  hateful  of  all  the 
vulture  race.  The  merry  mocking-birds,  and  golden  orioles, 
and  busy  robins,  and  murmuring  turtle  doves,  and  bright 
humming-birds,  and  myriad  field-sparrows,  all  disappeared  — 
hidden  in  the  branches,  or  fled  far  away. 

The  unwieldy  and  foul  bird  had  alighted  on  a  fence,  and 
looked  audaciously  and  securely  around,  like  the  horrid 
harpies  whom  JEneas  encountered  on  dire  Strophadean 
shores,  —  audaciously  and  securely,  for  it,  too,  like  human 
harpies,  is  protected  in  its  rapacity  and  obscenity  by  Caro 
lina  law.* 

But,  lo  !  a  lesson  of  courage  also,  and  defence.  The  two 
pintadids,  presented  by  Tommy  and  Billy,  set  up  a  scream  of 
defiance,  and  flew  fiercely  at  their  menacing  foe ;  and,  as  the 
cock  threatened  him  in  front,  the  hen  darted  a  stunning  blow 
upon  the  back  of  the  buzzard's  head,  which  tumbled  him  from 
his  perch.  The  clumsy  creature,  cowardly  as  voracious, 
spread  his  huge  wings  and  flew  skulkingly  away,  pursued  and 
insulted  by  the  screaming  and  triumphant  pintadids.  "  Hurra 
for  the  Wolfsdenners  !  "  exclaimed  Harry. 

These  lessons  of  love,  of  danger,  and  defence,  were  season 
ably  given.  Whoever  watches  the  indications  of  nature  and 
Providence  will  find  counsel  for  every  emergency. 

At  that  moment  the  door  opened,  and  a  little  woolly- 
headed  house-servant  announced  that  "  a  gemman  wanted  to 
see  mas'r." 

Harry  stepped  into  the  parlor,  and  was  agreeably  surprised 
to  find  an  old  college  acquaintance  and  friend,  whom  he  had 

*  It  is  unlawful  to  kill  the  turkey-buzzard  and  black  vulture  in  Carolina. 


WOLFSDEN.  41 1 

not  seen  for  two  or  three  years,  —  Dr.  Drinkmore,  formerly 
for  a  brief  space  a  tutor  in  Harvard  University. 

Dr.  Drinkmore  was  a  citizen  of  the  world ;  one  of  its  best- 
natured,  but  not  best-respected  citizens.  He  was  one,  like 
Hamlet's  friend  Horatio,  whose  revenue  was  his  good  spirits, 
and  who  took  fortune's  buffets  and  favors  with  equal  thanks ; 
that  is,  he  abused  the  favors,  and  fought  manfully  against  the 
buffets.  He  was  an  Englishman  and  a  scholar,  educated  at 
Oxford.  His  besetting  sin  was  conviviality,  generally  degen 
erating  into  drunkenness.  He  had  reformed  twenty  times, 
and  as  often  relapsed  ;  and  had  out-worn  the  philanthropy  of 
fifty  friends,  who  had  again  and  again  reformed  and  re-re 
formed  him.  His  learning  and  talents  were  eminent,  and  his 
manners  so  pleasant  that  he  always  found  some  patron  to 
help  and  set  him  in  the  right  way.  Harry  was  one  of  those 
who  had  done  him  that  service.  He  was  grateful  for  such 
kindness.  But,  however  he  fortified  himself  by  good  resolu 
tions  and  pledges,  he  would  sooner  or  later  relapse,  though  he 
sometimes  persevered  for  one  or  two  years  at  a  time.  When 
he  had  forfeited  his  position  in  England,  he  came  to  Boston, 
and,  his  abilities  being  discovered,  he  was  employed  as  tutor 
at  Cambridge,  whence,  but  for  a  relapse  to  dissipation,  he 
might  have  risen  to  a  professorship. 

Since  about  that  time  Harry  had  lost  sight  of  him,  and 
was  now  exceedingly  pleased  to  see  him,  especially  as  his  ap 
pearance  indicated  health  and  prosperity,  and  still  more  when 
informed,  in  a  subsequent  conversation,  that  he  was  a  tem 
perance  man  of  "fourteen  years'  standing." 

After  a  brief  enjoyment  of  the  hospitalities  of  the  house 
Dr.  Drinkmore  requested  of  Harry  to  show  him  the  planta- 


412  WOLFSDEN. 

tion.  When  they  had  proceeded  so  far  as  to  be  out  of  hear< 
ing,  the  doctor  told  him  the  object  of  his  visit. 

"  I  have  come,"  said  he,  "  to  warn  you  of  a  terrible  danger. 
I  knew  of  it  but  this  morning,  and  have  averted  it  for  a 
single  day,  which  I  employ  to  warn  you  against  to-morrow. 

"  I  am  nominally  a  law-student  at  Squire  Buzzard's,  in 
Washington.  I  arn  writing  a  book  which  requires  me  to 
know  something  of  manners  in  the  south,  and  also  something 
of  your  rascally  laws ;  so  I  avail  myself  of  a  lawyer's  office, 
which  serves  both  purposes,  and,  by  entering  myself  as  student, 
I  avoid  troublesome  inquiries.  In  this  situation,  besides 
seeing  many  villanies  which  I  have  not  interfered  with,  since 
I  could  not  prevent  them,  I  became  cognizant  of  a  plot  to 
reduce  a  gentleman  and  a  lady,  his  sister,  to  slavery.  I  was 
this  morning  invited  by  Buzzard  to  be  one  of  a  chivalrous 
party,  armed  with  pistols  and  like  persuasives,  to  accomplish 
that  object,  and  was  about  declining,  with  proper  thanks  for 
the  honor,  when  the  name  of  the  gentleman  for  whom  the 
favor  was  intended  happened  to  be  mentioned.  The  name  was 
HARRY  BOYNTON  !  Upon  inquiry,  I  found  that  it  was 
doubtless  my  old  college  friend  and  benefactor ;  and  I  at  once 
accepted  the  invitation,  stipulating  that  the  excursion  should 
be  put  off  till  to-morrow.  The  time  thus  gained  I  have 
employed  to  learn  the  facts,  or  pretences,  on  which  this  pro 
cedure  is  based,  and  to  give  you  warning." 

Dr.  Drinkmore  then  informed  Harry  of  what  he  had  found, 
by  examining  the  papers  in  the  office,  relating  to  his  descent 
from  a  slave-mother,  and  his  consequent  defencelessness  by 
Carolina  law,  of  which  the  reader  is  already  informed.  He 
added  that  Buzzard  and  Marshy,  with  several  assistants,  were 


WOLFSDEN.  413 

coming,  on  the  following  day,  to  seize  both  him  and  his 
sister. 

"  It  is  their  plan,  however,"  said  he,  "  not  to  use  force,  if 
they  can  prevail  by  stratagem.  They  will  probably  make- 
some  pretence  of  business  requiring  your  attendance  at 
Washington,  where  resistance  would  be  out  of  the  question. 
They  will,  however,  come  prepared  to  use  force  if  fraud  shall 
fail.  Their  object  is  doubtless  to  extort  money  from  your 
family  for  your  ransom ;  for  I  heard  Buzzard  say  the  prize 
was  worth  at  least  ten  thousand  dollars,  which,  I  believe,  is 
above  the  market  price  for  mere  human  blood,  and  sinews, 
and  souls,  in  this  beautiful  country.  But,  whatever  their 
object,  I  am  ready  to  help  defeat  it,  and  will  give  my  services 
in  any  way  you  will  command  them  —  only  the  more  fight 
the  better." 

Harry's  countenance  showed  every  variety  of  indignant 
emotion  while  the  doctor  told  his  story.  At  its  conclusion  he 
replied : 

"  My  dear  friend,  you  have  rendered  me  a  most  important 
service.  I  know  the  character  of  that  Buzzard,  and  I  now 
recall  that  I  have  been  informed  of  some  inquiries  of  his  in 
relation  to  my  affairs,  which  seemed  strange  and  impertinent, 
but  not  of  enough  importance  to  be  noticed,  though  they  now 
serve  to  confirm  your  account.  It  has  been  many  months 
since,  and  he  has  doubtless  thoroughly  matured  his  plan ; 
for  he  would  not  venture  upon  such  an  outrage  except 
upon  safe  legal  ground.  My  position  requires  decided,  and 
perhaps  desperate  action.  I  think  I  am  equal  to  it.  My 
grandfather  and  my  brave  grand-uncle,  still  living  in  Wolfs« 
den,  fought  for  freedom,  when  their  case  was  not  so  imminent 
as  mine ;  and  I  feel  some  of  their  blood  tingling  in  my  veins 
35* 


414  WOLFSDEN. 

just  now.  But  I  must  not  involve  you  in  the  affair.  You 
have  done  a  friend's  duty,  for  which  I  am  grateful.  Now 
leave  the  affair  to  me,  and  I  will  fight  or  fly,  as  seems  safest 
on  reflection." 

"  My  brave  friend,"  said  Drinkmore,  "  I  see  you  mean  to 
fight,  which  is  also  to  my  taste  at  present;  so  that  you  must 
receive  me  as  a  volunteer,  or  I  will  fight  on  my  own  hook. 
I  shall  not  suffer  you  to  be  engaged  against  such  odds  without 
sharing  your  danger;  and,  let  me  tell  you,  I  am  no  mean 
ally.  Would  you  like  to  see  me  snuff  a  candle  at  twenty 
paces  ?  I  have  brought  my  pistols  on  purpose  to  show  you 
the  experiment,  and  also  for  more  important  services.  You 
will  disoblige  me  if  you  refuse  my  assistance." 

"  I  shall  not  disoblige  you,  then,  but  receive  your  aid 
thankfully.  At  what  time  to-morrow  will  they  arrive  ?  " 

"  At  ten  or  eleven,  at  latest ;  perhaps  earlier,"  said  the 
doctor. 

"Then  let  us  plan  the  campaign  at  once,"  said  Harry. 

They  did  so ;  and,  without  detailing  their  conversation,  we 
will  briefly  state  their  resources  and  plan  of  defence. 

Harry's  slaves  were  about  fifty  in  number,  of  whom  some 
fifteen  were  able-bodied  men.  They  were  all  well  attached  to 
him ;  but  their  ability  as  soldiers  had  not  been  tried,  and 
the  present  crisis  was  too  important  to  be  trusted  to  raw 
troops.  There  was  one  among  them,  however,  called  Ben 
Blacksmith,  so  named  from  his  trade,  being  the  Vulcan  of  the 
plantation,  a  fellow  of  herculean  strength  and  dauntless 
courage,  whom  Harry  counted  as  a  match  for  a  dozen  com 
mon  men  without  fire-arms. 

"  But,  as  they  will  come  armed,"  said  Harry,  "  we  will  com 
bine  our  stratagem  with  his  strength,  and  it  shall  go  hard 


•WOLFSDEN.  41C 

but  we  three  can  take  care  of  at  least  a  dozen  such  as  you 
have  described." 

It  was  planned  to  take  the  assailing  party  prisoners,  and 
thus  prevent  their  seeking  reinforcements,  while  Harry  should 
have  time  to  take  other  measures  of  safety.  Angelina  was 
already  safe  from  present  danger ;  for  she  .had  accepted  an 
invitation  from  her  uncle  in  New  York,  and  was  now  there  on 
a  visit,  a  fact  which,  from  the  carelessness  of  their  spy,  had 
escaped  the  vigilance  of  Buzzard  and  Marshy.  Harry  was, 
therefore,  the  only  person  liable  to  be  seized ;  and  he  might 
have  arranged  for  his  wife's  protection,  and  sought  his  own 
safety  in  flight,  but  he  chose  to  face  the  danger ;  "  for,"  said 
he,  "I,  too,  am  a  Wolfsdenner." 

There  was  under  a  part  of  the  house  a  wine-cellar,  deep 
and  securely  built,  where  many  barrels  of  the  rich  juice  of  the 
scuppernong  grape  had  matured,  especially  in  the  old  pro 
prietor's  day  ;  and  even  now,  though  seldom  visited,  it  was 
not  destitute  of  the  delicious  beverage.  « 

"  It  will  be  a  very  convenient  prison  for  our  invaders," 
said  Harry,  "if  we  can  but  persuade  them  to  enter  it." 

"  I  will  undertake  that  business,"  said  the  doctor,  "  '  if  I 
have  a  genius  for  anything,'  as  a  certain  college  pupil  of  mine 
used  to  say,  it  is  for  leading  and  being  led  into  wine-cellars ; 
only  you  provide  the  force  to  keep  them  from  coming  out." 

"That  I  will,"  said  Harry;  and,  calling  a  velvet  urchin 
playing  near,  he  sent  for  Ben  Blacksmith.  Ben  soon  ap 
peared,  and,  with  hat  in  hand,  bowed  to  the  gentlemen,  and 
drew  himself  up,  as  waiting  orders.  He  was  more  than  sis 
feet  high,  and  built  on  the  most  approved  model  of  strength 
and  activity  ;  besides  which,  there  was  a  look  of  intelligence 
and  determination  in  him,  which  would  have  made  him  in  the 


416  WOLFSDEN. 

eyes  of  most  planters  what  is  termed  a  "  dangerous  fellow," 
—  not  the  kind  most  coveted  by  buyers;  but,  having  been 
raised  on  the  plantation,  and  always  treated  with  consid 
eration,  he  was  a  willing  and  faithful  servant.  He  stood 
before  them  grim  and  stalwart,  as  stood  the  genie  of  the  lamp 
before  Aladdin,  ready  to  do  his  bidding,  but  conscious  of  his 
own  power. 

Ben  was  sot  a  man  of  many  words,  often  substituting  a 
language  of  gestures  and  figures  of  action  more  expressive 
than  words. 

"Ben,"  said  Harry,  "  can  you  fight?" 

Ben  closed  his  brawny  hands  and  brilliant  teeth,  and,  look 
ing  down  upon  his  strong  legs  and  arms,  he  inspected  them 
separately,  as  a  general  inspects  his  troops  before  action,  and, 
being  satisfied  that  all  was  right,  he  gave  an  affirmative  nod. 

"  Well,  Ben,  there  's  a  fight  ahead.     You  know  Marshy  ?  " 

Ben  knew  Marshy,  and,  sharing  the  general  sentiment  of 
contempt  for  hkn,  he  replied  affirmatively  by  a  disparaging 
snap  of  his  fingers. 

"  Well,"  said  Harry,  "  that  Marshy  and  Squire  Buzzard, 
and  a  dozen  more  such  fellows,  are  coming  to-morrow  to  make 
plaves  of  us.  What  shall  we  do  with  them?" 

Ben  looked  about  for  an  illustration.  A  huge  spider  was 
crawling  upon  the  ground  near  by.  Ben  pointed  at  it  with 
the  toe  of  his  brogan,  and  then,  with  a  rhetorical  lifting  of 
the  leg,  he  set  his  heel  emphatically  upon  the  ugly  insect. 

"  That 's  what  you  would  do  about  it,  eh  ?"  said  Harry. 
"  Well,  Ben,  that 's  my  mind." 

Harry  then  gave  Ben  particular  information  and  instruc 
tions  concerning  the  service  required,  and  what  subsequent 
proceedings  would  bo  necessary,  aa  will  hereafter  be  de- 


WOLFSDEN.  417 

velopcd.  Having  dismissed  him,  and  fully  arranged  the  order 
of  proceedings  with  Drinkmore,  the  doctor  departed  for 
Washington,  to  return  on  the  morning  with  the  marauding 
party,  according  to  agreement. 

Harry  returned  to  his  wife,  and  gave  a  full  account  of  all 
that  had  passed.  Margaret's  confidence  in  her  husband's 
ability  and  courage  to  meet  this  strange  emergency  was  equal 
to  her  love.  Like  a  sensible  woman,  she  strengthened  her 
husband's  hands  by  approbation  of  his  resolution,  and  proffered 
assistance.  She  expressed  no  fears  for  the  result,  and  de 
clared  her  readiness  to  take  any  part  in  the  battle  for  free 
dom  which  might  become  a  lady  Wolfsdenner  and  the  wife 
of  a  Boynton. 

Thus  sustained,  Harry  completed  his  preparations,  not  only 
to  foil  his  foes,  but  for  a  final  departure  from  the  plantation. 
He  knew  that  the  estate,  including  the  slaves,  must  fall  to  his 
uncle  as  collateral  heir,  if  his  own  slave-descent  and  conse 
quent  incapacity  to  inherit  under  Carolina  law  should  be 
proved ;  and  therefore  the  property  was  safe  from  Marshy. 
He  wrote  immediately  to  Mr.  Brooks,  a  respectable  lawyer  in 
Washington,  stating  the  proceedings,  and  requesting  him  to 
act  as  attorney  and  agent  for  himself  and  his  uncle,  until  one 
of  them  should  appear.  He  then  packed  up  his  valuables 
and  sent  them  with  a  wagon  and  team  of  mules  to  Plymouth, 
a  port  on  Albcmarle  Sound,  with  orders  of  shipment  to  New 
York.  The  family  carriage  and  horses  were  put  in  order  for 
travelling;  and,  having  prepared  his  pistols  for  action,  ho 
waited  events. 

It  was  nearly  eleven  o'clock  the  next  day,  when  the  boy 
whom  Harry  had  ordered  to  watch  for  company  announced 


418  WOLFSDEN. 

that  a  "  smart  chance  of  gemmen  and  'osses  were  coming  up 
de  lane." 

"  How  many  ?  "  said  his  master. 

"  May  be  twenty  or  forty,"  said  the  dark  curly-pate,  whose 
notions  of  numbers  were  not  very  definite. 

Harry  looked  ;  there  were,  as  he  expected,  about  a  dozen. 
There  was  one  carriage  occupied  by  four  persons,  and  doubt 
less  intended  for  his  own  conveyance  back. 

Buzzard,  and  Marshy,  and  Dr.  Drinkmore,  were  of  the 
party.  The  others  were  also  partly  known  to  Harry,  par 
ticularly  a  Mr.  Sycophant  Curtis,  whom  Harry  counted  the 
most  despicable  of  the  whole  crew,  inasmuch  as  the  others 
were  prompted  by  hope  of  gain  or  other  common  temptations 
to  their  base  work,  and  showed  some  tokens  of  shame  and 
repugnance,  while  Curtis  acted  only  from  inherent  baseness, 
in  which  he  felt  no  degradation. 

Besides  this  cheesy,  passionless-looking  fellow,  there  were 
several  of  lower  degree  ;  Butmans,  Byrneses,  &c.,  too  insig 
nificant  even  to  be  inscribed  on  the  rolls  of  infamy. 

Only  four  entered  the  house  —  Buzzard,  Marshy,  Curtis, 
and  Dr.  Drinkmore.  The  doctor  appeared  as  a  stranger. 
Buzzard  put  on  a  pompous  business  air,  as  usual,  though  evi 
dently  flustered  and  confused.  Marshy  skulked  behind,  like 
a  cur  who  doubts  his  company,  and  keeps  an  eye  on  the  door 
of  retreat.  But  Curtis,  who  saw  nothing  in  the  business 
out  of  the  common  course,  appeared  as  usual,  bland  and 
imperturbable. 

Harry  received  the  company  with  composed  dignity.  A 
servant  handed  chairs.  Buzzard  opened  the  business  with  a 
well-conned  lie,  saying  that  a  measure  of  great  importance  to 
the  public,  especially  to  planters  and  men  of  property,  re- 


WOLPSDEN.  419 

quired  the  presence  and  deliberation  of  freeholders  and  men 
of  influence  in  Washington,  and  they  had  come  to  escort  him 
thither. 

Harry  replied  that  he  was  very  sensible  of  the  honor  they 
•were  doing  him,  and  would  readily  reciprocate  their  kindness. 
Turning  to  a  servant,  he  sent  orders  that  dinner  should  be 
served  up  with  despatch,  and  that  the  gentlemen's  horses 
should  be  cared  for.  The  outsiders  were  invited  in,  and  a 
brief  general  conversation  of  news,  weather,  &c.,  followed, 
and  Harry  soon  asked  if  they  would  like  to  look  over  his 
plantation  while  dinner  was  in  preparation.  Dr.  Drinkmore 
assented,  remarking  that  he  felt  somewhat  thirsty.  " 

"  Then,  we  '11  first  visit  the  wine-cellar,  and  take  your 
opinions  of  my  wine,"  said  Harry.  And,  ordering  lights,  he 
led  the  whole  company  down  a  labyrinthine  flight  of  passages 
to  a  deep  cellar,  in  which  there  was  a  long  row  of  barrels  on 
one  side,  and  shelves  filled  with  bottles  on  the  other.  There 
was  a  table  on  which  were  also  bottles  with  glasses  and  cork 
screws,  and  a  huge  covered  basket.  About  the  table  were 
two  or  three  chairs  and  a  rude  bench.  Harry  asked  the 
company  to  be  seated ;  and  then,  ringing  a  small  bell,  he 
stepped  back  to  the  door,  and  was  immediately  joined  by 
Ben  Blacksmith,  with  a  heavy  sledge-hammer  in  his  hand. 

Harry,  standing  in  the  doorway  by  the  side  of  Ben,  and 
exhibiting  a  pair  of  pistols,  requested  Dr.  Drinkmore  to  pass 
out  from  the  cellar,  with  which  request  he  immediately  com 
plied.  The  astonished  and  alarmed  company  would  have 
been  glad  to  follow,  but  there  was  something  in  Harry's  eye 
and  attitude,  in  connection  with  his  weapons  and  the  giant 
Vulcan  by  his  side,  which  held  them  motionless.  Ben,  per 
haps,  thought  he  saw  a  desperate  purpose  to  force  the  pas- 


420  WO'LFSDEN. 

sage ;  for  he  set  his  teeth  with  peculiar  ferocity,  and  gave  a 
flourish  of  his  ponderous  hammer,  wielding  it  as  lightly  as 
the  fencing-master  flourishes  his  foils,  and  struck  the  granite 
wall  with  a  force  which  scattered  splinters  over  the  cellar. 
The  demonstration  was  sumcient. 

Harry,  looking  at  Ben,  said,  "  These  are  the  fellows  I  told 
you  of;  what  would  you  do  with  them  ?  " 

Ben  thrust  his  hand  into  a  pocket,  and,  taking  thence  a 
handful  of  hazel-nuts,  he  threw  them  into  his  capacious  mouth, 
and,  shutting  his  strong  jaws  with  an  emphatic  gesture,  he 
ground  them  as  a  horse  grinds  oats. 

"  That  is,"  said  Harry,  "  you  would  chaw  'em  up  !  " 

The  black  nodded  approvingly,  as  if  to  say  that  he  could 
not  himself  have  expressed  it  better. 

"  They  deserve  it/'  said  Harry  ;  "  but  they  shall  first  have 
a  fair  trial.  Buzzard,"  continued  he,  addressing  that  indi 
vidual,  "  I  hear  that  you  have  been  making  some  inquiries 
concerning  my  family.  I  presume  that  bundle  of  papers  in 
your  pocket  may  relate  to  the  subject.  Toss  them  this 
way." 

Buzzard  saw  that  resistance  was  hopeless,  and  gave  up  the 
papers. 

"  Now,  villains,"  said  Harry,  "  I  shall  leave  you  here  till 
I  resolve  upon  your  fate.  You  will  find  water  in  those  bot 
tles.  The  wine  is  removed,  not  being  proper  for  persons  in 
your  condition.  There  is  corn-bread  and  bacon  in  that  bas 
ket, —  lawful  provision  for  a  week;  at  the  expiration  of  that 
time,  more  will  be  supplied.  I  leave  you  candles  and  a  Bible 
and  prayer-book,  and  advise  you  to  spend  your  remaining  days, 
or  hours,  in  penitence." 

Harry's  calm  and  deliberate  look  and  speech  struck  more 


WOLFSDEN.  421 

terror  into  the  hearts  of  his  captives  than  any  demonstration 
of  anger  could  have  done.  Buzzard,  a  poltroon  in  danger  as 
a  tyrant  when  in  power,  began  to  beg  for.  freedom,  and  offered, 
in  behalf  of  himself  and  Marshy,  to  cancel  all  claims  against 
his  person,  and  give  legal  papers  of  freedom,  with  whatever 
damages  he  might  require ;  and  Marshy  offered  to  sign  any 
papers  and  make  any  atonement  in  his  power.  But  Harry 
knew,  even  if  he  had  been  disposed  to  compromise,  that 
agreements  made  under  such  circumstances  would  not  be 
legally  binding,  and  that  therefore  no  reliance  could  be  put 
on  their  engagements.  Poor  Butman  was  still  more  hum 
bled.  With  blanched  face  and  chattering  teeth,  he  begged 
piteously  for  liberation.  He  called  heaven  to  witness  that 
he  intended  no  harm ;  that  he  did  not  come  to  kidnap,  and 
never  would  do  so  again.  He  would  be  Harry's  obedient 
servant  and  friend  forever,  if  set  free  ;  and  said  that  nothing 
but  his  poverty  had  induced  him  to  join  Buzzard.  As  Harry 
looked  upon  that  abject  wretch,  and  then  upon  the  brave  Ben 
Blacksmith  by  his  side,  he  mentally  said,  "  And  that  is  one 
of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race,  who  pride  themselves  upon  their 
vast  superiority  over  such  as  this  African  !  " 

Harry  commanded  them  all  to  be  silent ;  and,  closing  and 
double-locking  the  massive  door,  left  them  to  their  reflec 
tions.  He  did  not  intend  to  keep  them  imprisoned  longer 
than  necessary  for  his  own  safety,  but  meant  thoroughly  to 
frighten  them. 

The  papers  taken  from  Buzzard  proved  to  be  what  Harry 
expected.  Besides  Buzzard's  agreement  with  Marshy  to  do 
the  business  on  shares,  there  was  a  complete  history  of  the 
Bateman  and  Boynton  family,  with  dates  of  marriages,  births, 
deaths,  connections,  &c. ;  a  schedule  of  slaves  and  other  pos- 
36 


422  WOLFSDEN. 

sessions,  and  a  list  of  witnesses  and  particulars  proving  the 
fact  of  Harry  and  his  sister's  descent  from  a  slave-mother, 
the  property  of  General  Bateman,  whose  children,  not  being 
included  in  the  sale  to  Harry's  father,  were  therefore  the 
property  of  the  heirs. 

The  evident  accuracy  and  authenticity  of  the  information, 
so  far  as  Harry  knew  the  various  circumstances  enumerated, 
left  no  doubt  that  Buzzard  had  made  out  a  clear  case  accord 
ing  to  Carolina  law,  and  that  there  was  no  hope  for  safety 
but  in  flight. 

As  his  indignant  soul  revolved  the  atrocity  of  the  scheme 
devised  against  him,  and  of  the  laws  which  justified  it ;  and 
as  he  reflected  that  the  wretches  who  had  come  to  reduce 
himself  and  sister  to  a  state  of  unutterable  wretchedness 
were  now  in  his  power,  and  that  the  papers  containing  the 
facts  upon  which  they  relied  were  in  his  possession,  and 
that  probably  no  other  persons  knew  or  would  search  out 
the  facts,  and  therefore,  if  these  persons  and  papers  were 
destroyed,  the  conspiracy  against  him  would  be  ended  ;  and 
as  he  considered,  further,  that,  since  the  laws  of  his  country 
gave  him.no  protection,  he  owed  them  no  obedience,  and  he 
was  therefore  morally  free  to  use  his  natural  rights  of  self- 
protection,  he  felt  a  tide  of  unaccustomed  emotions  fill  and 
agitate  his  heart. 

Phrenologists  say  that  when  the  organs  of  combativeness 
and  dcstructiveness  are  strongly  excited,  they  force  the  whole 
moral  energies  into  their  own  channel.  It  was  so  with  Harry. 
The  protection  of  his  own  rights  demanded  retributive  ven 
geance  on  his  foes.  He  meditated  on  his  position,  —  an  out 
law,  though  innocent  of  wrong,  and  beset  by  ruffians  protected 
by  law.  He  walked  the  floor  with  accelerated  steps.  His 


WOLFSDEN.  423 

bands  were  unconsciously  clenched,  and  his  teeth  firmly  set 
The  muscles  of  his  face,  formed  to  express  good  will,  were 
now  contracted  into  the  lineaments  of  resolute  wrath.  His 
eyes  glared  with  a  terrible  fire.  His  chest  heaved  with  quick, 
panting  rags.  His  breath  came  frequent  and  hot.  He  was 
ripe  for  a  desperate  deed. 

Ready  means  for  safe  and  speedy  execution  were  not  want 
ing.  His  friend  Drinkmore  would  doubtless  depart  for  the 
north  immediately,  if  requested.  Ben  would  do  his  bidding 
to  any  extremity.  There  was  plenty  of  charcoal  at  the 
forge,  and  straw  and  sulphur  were  in  abundance.  In  a 
few  moments  the  villanous  crew  might  all  be  suffocated 
in  their  dungeon,  as  other  vermin  are  suffocated  in  their 
dens. 

It  is  thus  that  emotions  turned  in  one  direction,  impelled 
by  an  ardent  temperament  and  driven  by  surrounding  cir 
cumstances,  soon  gain  an  ungovernable  fury.  The  soul,  in 
tent  upon  one  point,  ceases  to  survey  the  whole  field  of 
moral  vision,  and  rushes  onward  with  irresistible  rage. 

An  angel  intervened,  or  a  deed  of  death  had  been  done. 
The  whole  detail  was  already  wrought  in  Harry's  mind.  He 
was  in  the  act  of  departing  to  put  it  in  execution,  when  a 
door  opened,  and  Margaret  entered.  She  saw  and  compre 
hended  her  husband's  unwonted  mood. 

"  lletire ! "  said  he,  with  a  sternness  never  used  before. 
"  lletire,  and  do  not  interrupt  me  ! " 

She  suspected  the  terrible  purpose  he  intended,  and,  with  a 
pleading  look,  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck. 

"  My  husband,"  said  she,  "  vengeance  belongs  to  God.  Let 
us  do  nothing  to  offend  him.  He  is  now  on  our  side,  and  will 
protect  us.  Let  us  leave  our  cause  with  him,  and  escape  from 


WOLFSDEN. 


this  evil  land.  We  can  now  go  harmless,  and  with  no  wrong 
on  our  souls." 

"  It  is  no  wrong  thing,  but  a  just  and  right  thing,  which  I 
mean  to  do,"  said  Harry. 

"  O,  it  is  wrong  —  wrong  to  yourself"  replied  the  wife. 
"  You  are  not  called  upon  to  punish  wickedness,  but  to  pre 
serve  your  own  goodness.  Treat  them  not  according  to  their 
deserts,  but  according  to  your  own  generous  and  noble  heart. 
You  have  called  me  your  angel  ;  let  me  now  be  your  good 
angel,  and  save  you  in  this  hour  of  angry  temptation.  It  is 
your  loving  wife,  and  another  still  dearer  to  us,  though  yet 
unborn,  who  plead  to  you  —  husband  and  father!  " 

The  tender  embrace,  the  pleading  voice,  the  magic  words 
wife,  husband,  father,  penetrated  through  the  fierce  pas 
sions  which  had  fortified  Harry's  heart.  The  current  of  his 
emotions  was  checked.  They  turned  to  their  accustomed 
channel  of  generous  and  loving  purposes.  He  embraced  his 
wife,  and  exclaimed  :  "  You  are,  indeed,  my  good  angel. 
You  once  saved  me  from  sinking  in  the  quicksands  of  dissi 
pated  folly,  and  now  you  have  saved  me  from  the  whirlpool 
of  ungovernable  rage.  We  will  fly  from  the  evil  intended  by 
others,  and  from  the  temptation  to  revenge  it." 

In  a  few  moments  horses  were  put  to  the  carriage,  and,  in 
an  hour  from  the  arrival  of  the  hostile  and  treacherous  crew, 
Harry  and  his  wife,  accompanied  by  Dr.  Drinkrnore,  and 
driven  by  Ben,  were  on  their  way  to  Portsmouth,  in  Vir 
ginia,  whence  they  would  proceed  by  steamboat  through 
Chesapeake  Bay  to  Baltimore,  on  the  way  to  New  York. 
The  keys  of  the  house  were  given  to  a  trusty  servant,  with 
orders  to  let  no  one  enter  till  Mr.  Brooks,  or  some  one  bring 
ing  a  specified  token  from  him,  should  come  ;  and  the  neces- 


WOLFSDEN.  42-T 

sity  of  keeping  the  prisoners  safe  till  Mr.  Brooks  should 
come  was  particularly  enforced. 

The  horses  soon  traversed  the  more  than  one  hundred 
miles  to  Portsmouth,  from  whence,  leaving  the  carriage,  the 
whole  party,  including  Ben,  took  passage  for  Baltimore; 
where  Harry  mailed  his  letter  to  Brooks,  having  first  added 
a  postscript,  stating  the  imprisonment  of  Buzzard  and  his 
crew,  and  authorizing  their  liberation. 

When  they  arrived  in  New  York,  Harry  took  carriage  and 
drove  to  his  uncle's,  where,  learning  that  his  uncle  was  at 
his  counting-room,  he  left  his  party,  and  proceeded  thither 
without  entering  the  house. 

Great  was  the  surprise  of  the  old  merchant  at  the  entrance 
of  his  nephew.  Still  greater  grew  his  surprise  at  the  account 
which  his  nephew  gave  of  himself.  He  was  a  fugitive  from 
Carolina  law,  and  had  come  to  seek  his  uncle's  protection  for 
himself  and  family. 

"  Of  what  can  you  have  been  guilty  ?  "  exclaimed  the  uncle. 

"  Not  guilty  at  all,  dear  uncle,"  said  the  nephew,  "  except 
of  the  sin  of  running  away  from  slavery,  which  is  crime  only 
against  slave-law  and  slaveholding  divinity, —  both  of  which 
I  repudiate." 

Harry  then  gave  a  full  account  of  facts,  and  exhibited 
the  papers  taken  from  Buzzard,  including  the  agreement  with 
Marshy  to  do  the  work  of  kidnapping  at  halves.  The  mer 
chant  was  astonished  at  the  baseness  of  the  wretch  Buzzard, 
whom  he  knew,  and  who  had  once,  in  the  character  of  an 
antimason  and  patriot,  claimed  the  merchant's  aid  and  hos 
pitality.  "  But  I  never  thoroughly  trusted  him,"  said  Mr. 
Boynton;  "there  was  something  in  his  countenance  which 
36* 


426  WOLFSDEN. 

forbade  that,  though  I  did  not  think  him  capable  of  such 
villany." 

Harry  remarked  that  the  climate  of  Carolina  was  favora 
ble  to  the  development  of  villany  in  such  as  have  a  natural 
inclination  that  way,  which  is  the  case  with  a  large  propor 
tion  of  the  Yankees  who  go  there.  "  And,  indeed,"  continued 
he,  "  I  had  pretty  nearly  determined  not  to  trust  myself  there 
much  longer  before  I  found  the  necessity  of  immediate  de 
parture." 

"  Well,"  replied  the  uncle,  facetiously,  "  I  think  I  shall 
not  send  you  back  ;  for  I  have  not  yet  '  conquered  my  preju 
dices,'  and  do  not  recognize  any  law  or  divinity  which  re 
quires  me  to  do  it.  Even  Dr.  Dewey's  divinity  does  not 
apply  here;  for,  though  he  spoke  of  sending  back  his  mother, 
son,  or  brother,  he  said  nothing  of  sending  his  nephew ;  and 
as  for  the  example  of  St.  Paul  and  Onesimus,  I  think  you 
could  scarcely  be  trusted  with  a  letter  to  Marshy  requesting 
him  to  receive  you  as  a  '  dearly-beloved  brother.'  " 

"  I  think,"  said  Harry,  "  I  should  rather  be  his  slave  than 
his  brother." 

"  "Well,  my  boy,  we  must  not  waste  time.  There  is  more 
to  be  done  than  you  know  of.  Your  sister  Angelina  is  now 
on  her  way  to  Carolina.  I  must  follow  her,  or  rather  '  head 
her  off'  by  the  first  conveyance,  lest  she  should  fall  into  the 
hands  of  Marshy." 

Great  was  Harry's  surprise  and  alarm  at  this  information. 
He  was  told  that  Angelina,  having  accepted  her  uncle's 
advice  to  remain  in  New  York  for  a  greater  length  of  time 
than  at  first  proposed,  had  thought  desirable  first  to  return 
and  spend  a  week  or  two  of  preparation  in  Carolina.  The 
sailing  of  a  fine  new  schooner  belonging  to  her  uncle,  and 


TVOLFSDEN.  427 

which,  in  compliment  to  her,  he  had  named  "  Angelina,"  and 
which  was  bound  for  Newbern,  N.  C.,  whence  the  conveyance 
to  Oakridge  was  easy,  offered  a  pleasant  opportunity,  espe 
cially  as  some  friends,  desirous  to  try  a  sea-voyage,  would  sail 
in  the  same  vessel. 

The  schooner  had  already  been  at  sea  one  or  two  days,  and 
might  be  expected  in  Newbern  in  two  or  three  more ;  and  there 
was,  therefore,  no  time  to  be  lost,  as  it  was  desirable  to  inter 
cept  the  lady  on  the  arrival  of  the  vessel. 

Mr.  Boynton  had  conceived  a  high  idea  of  Alek's  sagacity 
and  promptitude  in  cases  of  difficulty,  as  in  the  rescue  of 
Sophia  Greening,  and  one  or  two  other  incidents  within  his 
knowledge ;  and,  thinking  it  possible  that  he  might  require 
such  aid,  he  applied  to  Mr.  Greening,  who  willingly  consented 
to  Alek's  accompanying  him,  and  Alek  was  gratified  with  the 
confidence  and  the  excursion.  In  a  few  hours  they  departed, 
and  in  two  days  arrived  in  Newbern. 

A  severe  storm  had  commenced  soon  after  their  departure, 
which  increased  to  a  hurricane  by  the  time  they  had  arrived 
in  Newbern.  Trees,  fences,  and  buildings,  were  prostrated. 
Torrents  of  rain,  driven  by  the  fierce  winds,  flooded  and 
gulleyed  the  roads.  The  Neuse  river,  swollen  by  the  deluge, 
and  driven  back  by  the  tide,  overflowed  the  banks,  destroying 
dwellings,  and  driving  the  vessels  moored  at  the  wharves  and 
in  the  stream  high  on  unnavigable  sands.  Disaster,  discom 
fort,  danger,  and  dismay,  prevailed. 

The  storm  lasted  several  days,  which  in  such  a  place  as 
Newbern  must  necessarily  be  tedious  days,  even  without  a 
storm.  There  was  reason  to  fear  great  disasters  and  ship 
wrecks  on  the  coast ;  but  news  in  Carolina,  like  everything 
else,  travels  with  a  tardy  pace,  and  several  more  days  must 


428  WOLFSDEN. 

elapse  before  definite  knowledge  would  arrive.  "When  a  week 
had  passed  away  the  schooner  Angelina  had  not  arrived,  but 
a  most  unpleasant  visitor  had  come.  It  was  Marshy.  Being 
liberated  from  the  cellar,  and  recovered  from  his  terror,  he 
had  come  prepared  to  assert  his  claim  upon  Angelina.  It 
happened  that  she  had,  on  the  eve  of  departure  from  New 
York,  sent  a  letter  to  inform  her  brother.  The  letter  had 
fallen  into  Marshy's  ha'nds.  He  had  quarrelled  with  Buz 
zard,  to  whom  he  attributed  the  disaster  of  his  confinement 
and  suffering  in  the  cellar,  and  he  was  now  resolved  to  seize 
Angelina,  and  save  all  the  profits  to  himself. 

He  had  come  directly  to  the  tavern  where  Mr.  Boynton  and 
Alek  tarried,  and  soon  the  parties  became  aware  of  each 
other's  presence  and  object. 

It  was  unpleasant  to  Mr.  Boynton  to  make  any  advances 
to  such  a  grovelling  wretch ;  but  necessity  required  it,  and  he 
therefore  sent  for  him  to  his  room,  and  opened  the  business 
at  once  by  asking  what  ransom  he  demanded  for  his  claim. 
Marshy,  who  knew  something  of  Mr.  Boynton's  wealth,  and 
rightly  presumed  that  he  would  ransom  his  niece  at  any  price, 
grasped  at  the  highest  sum  he  could  muster  courage  to  name, 
which  was  ten  thousand  dollars.  Mr.  Boynton,  to  be  free 
of  the  hateful  business,  would  probably  have  acceded  to  the 
demand ;  but  Alek,  who  had  stipulated  with  his  employer  for 
liberty  of  interference  according  to  his  discretion,  and  who 
had  all  the  time  been  scanning  Marshy's  countenance  with  a 
curious  and  puzzled  interest,  now  took  up  the  work,  and 
replied,  peremptorily,  "  We  shall  not  give  it.  You  must  name 
reasonable  terms,  or  we  shall  not  negotiate."  The  effect  of 
this  prompt  reply  upon  Marshy  showed  that  he  was  not  ex 
actly  sure  of  his  ground,  or  at  least  had  not  the  resolution  to 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  .  42D 

maintain  it.  It  was  well  that  Buzzard  had  not  come  with 
him. 

Alek  reminded  Marshy  that,  as  the  vessel  now  so  long  due 
had  not  arrived,  perhaps  she  might  not  arrive.  She  might 
have  foundered  in  the  storm,  or  been  driven  back  to  New 
York,  or  into  some  port  whence  Angelina  would  return 
thither.  He  hinted,  also,  that  the  Boynton  family  had  many 
friends  in  Carolina,  whom  a  much  less  sum  than  tea  thousand 
dollars  would  stimulate  to  vindicate  their  cause,  in  spite  of 
law ;  and  that,  for  the  sake  of  his  own  safety  and  that  of  his 
property,  he  had  better  be  reasonable.  In  short,  he  so  worked 
upon  the  cautious  and  cowardly  nature  of  the  avaricious  knave 
that  he  at  last  consented  to  sell  Harry  and  Angelina  to  -their 
uncle  for  two  thousand  dollars,  and  the  deed  and  payment 
were  made  accordingly. 

Mr.  Boynton,  having  thus  secured  the  essential  object  of  his 
journey,  waited  with  patience  the  arrival  of  his  vessel.  Shortly 
she  came,  m  gallant  trim  ;  for  the  captain,  skilful  and  for 
tunate,  had  gained  a  safe  haven  and  outridden  the  storm. 
The  uncle  and  niece  commenced  their  homeward  journey 
through  Washington;  where  Alek  had  already  gone,  and  was 
spending  a  few  days  —  not  idly,  as  we  shall  see  by  and  by. 

In  Washington  Mr.  Boynton  saw  Mr.  Brooks,  who  had 
taken  possession  of  the  estate  at  Oakridge  in  behalf  of  his 
client,  though  uncertain  whether  the  client  was  Harry  or  his 
uncle.  Mr.  Boynton  requested  him  to  hold  the  estate  subject 
to  Harry's  control,  who  would  soon  dispose  of  it ;  and  in  the 
mean  time  to  place  on  it  some  trusty  white  person,  who  might 
protect  and  employ  the  slaves  for  wages,  but  not  coerce 
them. 

Mr.  Boynton  also  saw  Buzzard.     The  fellow  looked  crest- 


430  .        W  0  L  F  8  D  E  N  . 

fallen,  and  would  have  avoided  recognition ;  but,  finding  that 
impossible,  he  assumed  a  confident  brazen-facedness,  and  offered 
to  shake  hands.  Mr.  Boynton  only  looked  upon  him  with 
the  steady  scrutiny  of  one  who  studies  a  rare  reptile,  with 
mingled  curiosity  and  disgust,  till  the  fellow  skulked  con 
fusedly  away. 

Mr.  Boynton,  with  his  niece,  visited  Oakridge,  where  each 
looked  with  tears  of  affectionate  grief  upon  the  graves  of 
those  so  dear  to  them  both.  It  is  human  weakness  that  sheds 
the  tears.  Had  we  angel  natures  we  should  rejoice  with 
songs  of  triumph  for  those  who  have  finished  earth's  pilgrim 
age  and  passed  to  a  higher  sphere. 


CHAPTER     XXXV. 


ALEK'S  investigations  in  Washington  gave  him  a  knowledge, 
general  and  particular,  concerning  the  people  and  their  insti 
tutions,  which  proved  useful  as  well  as  curious.  Among 
other  particulars,  he  ascertained  something  of  Marshy's  pre 
vious  history,  which  helped  to  confirm  certain  suspicions  re 
lating  to  his  identity.  He  also  learned  that  Marshy's  wife 
resided  much  of  the  time  in  that  uncelestial  city,  preferring 
its  society  to  the  solitariness  of  the  plantation.  She  was  not 
reported  to  possess  much  gentleness,  or  refinement,  or  other 
amiabilities,  even  according  to  the  Carolina  standard ;  but,  a» 
an  offset,  she  was  loud  and  bold,  and  had  a  just  contempt  for 
her  husband.  Marshy  was,  as  he  deserved  to  be,  little  better 
than  her  slave ;  but  it  was  considered  that  by  selling  himself 
for  the  price  of  a  plantation  he  had  got  his  full  value. 

On  the  other  hand,  Mrs.  Marshy  was  about  as  badly  used 
by  her  son,  little  Bob  Marshy,  a  snub-nosed,  wide-mouthed, 
lop-eared  boy  of  ten  or  eleven  years,  precociously  profligate, 
and  uniting  the  sly,  sneaking,  selfish  nature  of  his  father 
with  the  swinish  coarseness  of  his  mother. 

She  passed  much  of  her  time  in  coaxing,  threatening,  abus 
ing,  and  bribing  her  whelp,  who,  as  relentless  as  an  old  slave- 
driver  in  his  tyranny,  used  all  his  perverse  powers  to  plague 


432  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  X  . 

and  tease  her.  He  had  already  the  advantage  in  his  own 
hands ;  for  his  mother,  in  her  fits  of  fondness,  and  to  inspire 
him  with  a  proper  contempt  for  his  father,  represented 
Marshy  to  him  as  a  nobody,  and  himself  as  the  important 
personage  who  inherited  the  estate  from  his  grandfather, 
which  Marshy  could  control  only  till  the  heir  should  be  grown 
up ;  so  that  Bob  even  now  despised  "  old  Sneaky,"  as  he 
called  him,  as  much  as  the  lady  herself.  But,  as  Marshy  was 
not  a  man  of  much  perception  concerning  the  fitness  of  filial 
and  paternal  relations,  nor  of  any  delicacy  of  feelings,  he  prob 
ably  suffered  no  regrets,  but  was  in  reality  that  which  seems 
monstrous  in  imagination  —  a  contented  slave. 

Alek,  having  stored  his  memory  with  these  and  all  other 
historical  and  local  facts  concerning  the  paltry  place  bearing 
the  august  name  of  Washington,  rejoined  his  friends  at  Oak- 
ridge,  whence  they  all  soon  departed,  and  in  due  season  arrived 
in  New  York. 

Shortly  after  their  return,  Mr.  Boynton  sent  for  Alek  to 
his  counting-room,  and  presented  him  with  a  bank  check  for 
five  hundred  dollars.  "  Your  prompt  and  able  services,"  said 
he,  "  have  saved  me  much  more  than  that  sum,  and  whenever 
you  engage  in  any  enterprise  requiring  assistance  count  me 
as  one  of  your  friends." 

"  I  accept  the  money,"  said  Alek,  "  only  with  permission 
to  act  in  your  service  a  little  longer,  and  in  a  way  for  which 
the  money  will  be  necessary.  My  object  is  to  make  Marshy 
restore  the  two  thousand  dollars  of  which  he  plundered  you  ; 
and,  if  you  approve  the  object,  and  will  allow  me  to  pro 
ceed  in  my  own  way,  without  implicating  you.  I  think  I  can 
convince  the  pirate  of  the  propriety  of  his  restoring  the 
plunder." 


WOLFSDEN.  433 

"  If  you  can  do  that,"  said  Mr.  Boynton,  "you  shall  have 
the  whole  sum,  and  my  thanks.  My  chief  regret  at  losing  it  was 
that  it  went  to  reward  a  villain  deserving  the  hangman's  rope. 
But,"  continued  he,  "  I  give  no  consent  to  any  plan  which 
shall  require  you  to  return  to  Carolina,  or  incur  any  danger." 

"  No,"  said  Alek,  "  I  shall  not  leave  New  York.  There  is 
a  genie  who  will  do  the  business  for  me  without  risk,  and  you 
have  furnished  me  the  talisman  (referring  to  the  bank  check) 
which  will  command  him." 

That  evening  Alek  wrote  a  letter  to  his  old  friend  Ike 
Bowler,  of  Wolfsden. 

"  DEAR  IKE  :  You  are  wanted  here  for  a  particular  occa 
sion.  Nobody  but  a  Wolfsdenner  will  do,  and  of  all  Wolfs- 
denners  you  are  the  one.  It  is  inexpedient  to  explain 
particulars  till  we  meet.  You  will  find  them  satisfactory. 
You  remember  that  Santa  Glaus  went  to  old  Bang's  with 
boots  for  Sue,  and  afterwards  to  Bragly's  to  recover  them  for 
her.  That  was  a  good  thing.  This  is  a  good  thing.  En 
closed  are  fifty  dollars  to  start  with.  Please  to  start  sud 
denly,  and  be  here  before  a  week,  if  possible.  With  love  to 
your  folks,  and  especially  my  sweet  daughter  Amy, 

"Yours,  ALEK  ARBOR." 

Ike  was  punctual  to  the  summons.  He  had  never  before 
left  Wolfsden,  but  would  have  gone  to  China  if  invoked  by 
Alek.  Particulars  were  explained,  and  proved  satisfactory, 
and  Ike,  with  a  new  outfit,  and  three  or  four  hundred  dollars 
in  his  pocket,  left  New  York  as  suddenly  as  he  entered  it. 
Few  knew  whither  he  went ;  but  it  was  not  in  the  direction 
of  Wolfsden. 

37 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 


ABOUT  this  time  appeared  a  wonder  in  Washington.  A 
stout,  swaggering,  odd-looking  individual,  with  long  hair  hang 
ing  over  his  shoulders,  and  other  peculiarities  enough  to  make 
folks  stare  who  have  nothing  else  to  do,  as  is  universally  the 
case  in  Washington,  came  suddenly  into  that  once  obscure, 
but  henceforth  famous  city. 

The  odd-looking  individual  announced  himself  as  Dr.  Polly- 
wog.  He  professed  to  cure  all  diseases  by  the  application  of 
cold  water,  and  announced  lectures  to  maintain  his  doctrine. 
The  idea  was  very  novel  in  that  place,  where  whiskey  is  the 
general  remedy.  Everybody  turned  out  to  hear  Dr.  Pollywog. 
Though  ignorant,  as  far  as  appeared  by  his  lectures,  of  every 
thing  pertaining  to  diseases  or  remedies,  or  any  other  science, 
he  managed,  by  his  assurance,  and  volubility,  and  jocularity, 
and  incomprehensibility,  to  make  a  wonderful  impression. 
His  audience  were  more  ignorant  than  he.  Ignorant  people 
always  take  the  side  of  ignorant  doctors,  and  a  lecturer  who 
can  make  them  laugh  is  more  acceptable  than  one  who  re 
quires  them  to  think.  The  natives  thronged  to  Dr.  Pollywog 
to  be  cured  of  all  manner  of  diseases ;  and  he  soused  them,  and 
packed  them  in  wet  sheets,  and  made  them  swallow  quarts 
of  hateful  water,  till  they  were  glad  to  confess  themselves 
3ured.  So  Dr.  Pollywog  got  much  notoriety,  and  many  dollars. 


VTOLFSDEN.  435 

Besides  his  droll  dress,  his  slouching  hat  and  gait,  and 
hanging  hair,  and  flapping  ruffles,  and  big  bright  buttons,  and 
scarlet  vest,  and  boots  outside  his  trousers,  he  drove  a  stout, 

• 

parti-colored  horse,  of  extra  spirit  and  speed,  and  a  light, 
gay  gig,  in  which  he  would  every  day  whisk  through  the 
town  in  a  manner  that  would  have  reminded  the  natives  cf 
"  Tarn  o'  Shanter "  and  his  mare  "  Meg,"  only  the  natives 
never  read  Burns  —  nor  anything  else,  except  their  paltry 
newspapers. 

Among  other  oddities,  Dr.  Pollywog  affected  a  great  fancy 
for  the  company  of  vagrant  boys  (all  white  boys  there  are  va 
grant)  ;  and  with  them  he  would  go  on  fishing  and  shooting 
excursions,  supplying  them  with  abundance  of  candy,  cakes, 
whiskey,  tobacco,  cigars,  and  other  luxuries  congenial  to  Caro 
lina  juveniles,  whom  their  wise  parents  are  careful  to  bring 
up  in  the  way  they  choose  to  go.  Often  he  would  take  one 
or  two  of  the  rowdy  young  hopefuls  and  give  them  a  rapid 
airing  in  his  gig.  The  snub-nosed,  wide-mouthed,  lop-eared 
Bob  Marshy,  as  being  one  of  the  rascaliest  of  the  crew,  was 
his  particular  favorite.  Not  even  the  mother's  partiality  for 
her  pig-headed  progeny  exceeded  that  of  Dr.  Pollywog. 

The  doctor  had  patients  in  Newbern,  a  few  hours'  ride 
from  Washington,  and  would  often  take  one  of  the  vagrant 
boys  with  him,  who,  on  his  return,  would  exaggerate  the  jolly 
times  enjoyed,  setting  other  boys  agog  for  like  delectations. 
The  doctor  invited  Bob  Marshy  to  go ;  and,  though  his  mother 
objected  to  trusting  him  so  long  out  of  her  sight,  yet,  as  Bob 
swore  he  would  go,  the  mother  yielded  the  point,  perhaps  to 
prevent  his  perjuring  himself,  only  exacting  of  the  doctor  a 
promise  to  be  particularly  careful  of  her  darling.  After  he 
had  gone  once  or  twice  and  returned  safely,  the  mother's  con- 


4oG  WOLFSDEN. 

fidence  was  fully  established,  and  the  doctor  and  Bob  were 
absent  sometimes  one  or  two  days  at  a  time. 

Pollywog  told  .Bob  all  about  the  great  cities,  and  the  lots 
of  fun  going  on  there ;  the  military  companies,  with  swords 
and  epaulets,  and  colors  and  feathers,  and  also  the  music- 
grinders  and  the  monkeys,  and  all  such  wonders.  Bob  swore 
he'd  go  in  for  it,  the  first  chance,  and  cut  Sneaky  and  the 
old  woman,  — by  which  filial  terms  he  designated  his  honored 
parents. 

Dr.  Pollywog  and  Bob  started  for  Newbern  one  bright 
morning.  They  did  not  return  that  day.  They  did  not  re 
turn  the  next  day.  Madam  felt  a  little  fidgety.  Dr.  Polly 
wog  had  told  her  when  she  felt  fidgety  to  cool  off  in  a  wet 
sheet ;  but  she  neglected  his  prescription,  and  therefore  grew 
more  fidgety.  The  next  day  thvy  did  not  come,  and  she 
fumed  and  fretted  furiously.  The  fourth  day  she  sent  Marshy 
in  pursuit,  but  no  Pollywog  nor  Bob  had  been  seen  in 
Newbern.  They  had  not  been  there.  Nobody  had  seen  them 
anywhere. 

There  was  a  buzzing  in  the  wasps'  nest.  The  road  to  New- 
bern  continues  on  south,  and  travellers  may  pursue  it  and 
avoid  Newbern;  therefore  the  fugitives  had  doubtless  gone 
south.  There  was  indeed  an  obscure  road,  which  turns  off 
and  by  a  circuitous  route  leads  north  ;  but  nobody  wmild  be 
likely  to  take  it,  and  therefore  their  pursuers  and  advertise 
ments  were  sent  south. 

They  went  a  good  ways,  and  inquired  of  many  persons,  but 
got  no  news  of  Bob.  How  could  they?  Bob  was  by  this 
time  in  New  York,  enjoying  lots  of  fun,  and  following  the 
military  companies,  with  their  swords  and  guns,  and  epaulets 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  X .  437 

and  feathers,  and  the  organ-grinders  and  monkeys,  and  other 
worthy  curiosities. 

In  a  fortnight  Mrs.  Marshy  was  frantic  with  all  the  strong 

O  J  O 

emotions  of  her  slrong  temperament.  Should  not  "sulk,"  as 
her  slave  Lolly  did,  when  Marshy,  at  his  wi'.'e's  instigation, 
sold  oft' her  little  boy  to  a  trader.  Loity  "  sulked,"  and  Mis. 
Marshy  tried  the  whip,  and  then  Marshy  himself  tried  it,  but 
all  did  no  good.  Lotty  shammed  sick,  and  Mrs.  Marshy  beat 
her  till  ehe  was  tired  of  it;  and  then,  when  she  found,  as  she 
said,  that  the  jilt  would  die,  she  sold  her  tu  a  trader  at  h:ilf 
price.  The  trader  would  not  have  given  half  price  for  a  sick 
nigger,  but  Mrs.  Marshy  told  him  Lotty  was  getting  well; 
and,  by  telling  Lolly  that  she  should  be  sent  to  find  her  boy, 
which  brightened  up  the  wench  wonderfully,  she  made  the 
trader  think  so  ;  but  the  trader  lost  money  by  the  specula 
tion,  for  Lotty  died  on  his  hands.  This  is  Mrs.  Marshy 's 
own  account  of  the  afl'air. 

Mrs.  Marshy  did  not  sulk,  —  not  she.  Hers  was  the  femi 
nine  fury  which  a  she-bear  manifests  when  robbed  of  her 
whelps.  Marshy  himself  was  wonderfully  stirred  up.  Some 
thing  besides  parental  feeling  was  involved ;  for,  Bob  being  the 
heir  of  his  grandfather,  by  his  guardianship  a  large  property 
was  held  and  enjoyed  by  the  parents,  and  the  possession  of 
the  property  was  identified  with  the  safety  of  the  boy.  Other 
heirs,  by  will  or  otherwise,  stood  ready  to  claim  possession  if 
he  should  be  put  out  of  the  way;  and  perhaps  this  was  a 
scheme  to  put  him  out  of  the  way.  The  Marshys  had  suffi 
cient  motive  of  apprehension. 

But  partial  relief  came  in  shape  of  a  letter  from  New 
York,  thus : 

37* 


138  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

"  MISTER  MARSHY  :  You  can  have  your  boy  by  coming 
to  New  York  and  paying  three  thousand  dollars.  I  could 
make  more  of  him,  but  I  only  want  what 's  right.  So,  if  you 
want  him,  come  on  with  the  cash.  It's  no  use  to  come  with 
out  it,  for  I  shan't  take  off  a  cent.  We  shall  sail  in  a  week, 
if  we  don't  get  the  money.  Mr.  Arbor,  at  Greening  &  Rus- 
sctt's  agricultural  store,  will  tell  you  where  to  find  us.  And 
so  no  more  from  your  humble  servant  to  command  till  death, 
"  WIDEAWAKE  WOLFSDENXER." 

This  was  not  exactly  the  way  to  please  Marshy  and  lady. 
He  would  have  paid  with  his  soul,  or  she  with  her  good  name, 
supposing  them  to  have  been  possessed  of  such  commodities, 
rather  than  with  three  thousand  dollars.  But  there  was  a 
necessity  to  get  back  the  boy  even  at  that  price  ;  for,  setting 
aside  parental  prejudices,  several  times  the  sum  depended 
upon  him  as  heir  to  his  grandfather.  So,  as  the  letter  was 
peremptory,  they  raised  the  sum  and  departed. 

Alek  Arbor  had  just  closed  his  books  and  locked  them  in 
the  iron  safe,  and  was  about  closing  the  office,  when  a  man 
and  woman  entered.  It  was  Marshy  and  his  wife,  or  rather 
Mrs.  Marshy  and  her  husband ;  for  she  entered  first,  bold, 
earnest,  and  business-looking,  while  he  lagged  behind,  skulk 
ing,  furtive,  and  suspicious-looking. 

It  was  scarcely  two  months  since  she  had  seen  him  near 
her  own  home,  and  she  claimed  acquaintance.  "  I  have 
come,"  said  she,  "  to  get  my  boy  ;  can  you  tell  me  where  to 
find  Wideawake  Wolfsdenner  ?  " 

"  You  may  find  a  Wideawake  Wolfsdenncr  without  going 
far,"  replied  Alek ;  "  but  have  you  brought  the  three  thousand 
dollars,  for  without  that  I  shall  not  introduce  you  to  him." 


W  0  L  F  S  D  K  N  .  439 

"  Surely  you  will  not  keep  a  mother  from  getting  her  own 
boy !  "  said  Mrs.  Marshy,  suppressing  for  the  moment  her 
natural  spirit,  and  putting  on  the  pathetic. 

"  No,  madam,"  said  Alek,  "  I  shall  not  interfere  with  your 
efforts.  But,  by  the  way,  what  became  of  Lotty  and  her 
boy?" 

"  You  don't  mean  to  throw  that  nigger  in  my  teeth  !  "  said 
Mrs.  Marshy,  laying  aside  the  pathetic,  and  resuming  her 
natural  spirit.  "  She  was  my  nigger,  and  so  was  her  boy.  I 
had  a  right  to  sell  'em." 

"  Well,  madam,"  said  Alek,  looking  at  his  watch,  "  I  have 
no  time  to  argue  the  matter.  It  is  tea-time." 

"  0,  Mr.  Arbor,"  said  she,  again  putting  on  the  pathetic, 
"  do  let  me  have  my  boy,  and  I  '11  pay  you  anything  you 
ask." 

"  Produce  tho  three  thousand  dollars,  then,"  said  Alek, 
"  and  I  '11  do  my  part." 

"  Don't  tell  me  about  three  thousand  dollars !  "  said  the 
virago,  resuming  her  natural  spirit,  and  dropping  the  pathetic. 
"  Do  you  think  to  swindle  me  out  of  three  thousand  dollars? 
I  tell  you,  young  man,"  said  she,  marching  up  to  him  with  a 
threatening  look,  "that  you've  got  to  give  up  ray  boy,  or," 
continued  she,  abating  a  little  her  threatening  look,  on  seeing 
that  Alek  did  not  quail  before  it,  "  or,  if  there 's  law  in  the 
United  States,  I'll  have  it !  " 

Alek  pulled  a  bell,  and  a  boy  answered  the  summons. 
"  Madam  and  sir,"  gaid  he,  addressing  his  company,  "  you 
may  leave  the  office  immediately,  or  I  shall  send  for  a  police- 
officer  to  take  charge  of  you." 

"  0,  Mr.  Arbor,"  exclaimed  she,  relapsing  to  the  pathetic, 
'  don't  do  so,  —  don't  treat  a  lady  so  !  Come,  now,  say  the  best 


440  WOLFSDEN. 

you  will  do.  You  know  Mr.  Marshy  asked  you  only  two 
thousand  dollars  for  the  Boyntons." 

"  Yes,  he  asked  ten  thousand  dollars,  and  would  have  got 
it  if  you  had  been  there  to  back  him.  But  the  case  is  differ 
ent.  He  had  not  got  the  game  quite  in  his  hands,  and  was 
afraid  of  losing  the  whole.  We  have  the  game  in  our  hands, 
and  are  sure  of  the  whole ;  and,  besides,  you  began  the  bat 
tle,  and  have  no  right  to  complain  that  we  fight  harder  than 
you  expected." 

"  But  you  mean  to  go  according  to  law,  I  suppose,"  said 
Marshy,  for  the  first  time  interposing  a  word. 

"  I  have  not  decided  upon  that,  sir,"  said  Alek,  fixing  his 
eye  full  upon  him.  "  I  shall  see  how  this  matter  ends  before 
I  decide  upon  the  next  business,  sir.  Do  you  know  anything 
of  Wolfsden,  sir,  —  and  of  Bragly,  the  grocer,  sir,  —  and 
of  Simon  Bragly,  sir?  We  shall  see  about  law.  as  soon  as 
we  get  through  the  present  business,  —  or  before,  unless  it 
ends  soon,  sir." 

Marshy  quailed,  and  said  no  more ;  but  ever  and  anon  he 
stole  a  glance  at  Alek,  as  at  a  wizard  beneath  whose  power 
resistance  was  vain. 

The  lady  could  not  comprehend  it,  but,  knowing  her  hus 
band's  character,  and  that  he  had  before  been  in  New  York, 
she  suspected  that  some  former  villany  of  his  was  detected, 
and  that  new  dangers,  and  perhaps  new  demands,  awaited 
them. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Arbor,"  said  she,  with  a  double  proportion  of 
the  pathetic,  "  do  let  us  off  as  easy  as  you  can ;  do  let  me 
see  my  boy,  and  know  that  all  is  right,  and  you  shall  have 
the  money." 

"  Madam,"  replied  Alek,  "  you  shall  have  sufficient  security 


WOLFSDEN.  441 

that  I  shall  fulfil  my  engagements.  Mr.  Marshy  knows  very 
well  that  the  family  of  Deacon  Arbor,  whose  son  I  am, 
always  fulfil  their  engagements ;  besides,  I  will  call  a  gentleman, 
well  known  to  you  as  a  man  of  honor,  who  will  take  charge 
of  the  money,  and  return  it  to  you  unless  the  boy  be  forth 
coming." 

The  Marshys  assented,  and  Alek  bade  the  boy  run  for  Mr. 
Harry  Boynton.  They  started  at  the  name.  They  would 
rather  not  have  faced  their  former  neighbor,  under  present 
circumstances ;  but  there  was  no  help.  Harry  came  and 
looked  upon  the  crestfallen  couple,  but  made  no  remark. 
Alek  explained  the  business,  and  Harry  consented  to  act  as 
banker.  Little  as  the  Marshys  could  comprehend  the  nature 
or  motive  of  honor,  they  knew  it  to  be  an  indisputable  quality 
of  the  Boyntons  ;  and  the  money  was  deposited  without  much 
more  delay,  for  the  harassed  and  jaded  couple  had  worn  out 
much  of  their  energy  and  power  of  resistance.  All  the 
faculties  sink  under ,  long-continued  excitement,  and  even 
avarice  loosens  its  grasp  when  nature  is  exhausted.  They 
were  anxious  to  have  the  business  ended,  and  to  be  away 
from  the  city,  where  the  lady  had  vague  fears  of  further  trou 
ble  and  expense;  and  whence  Marshy,  now  that  he  knew  him 
self  known,  had  good  reason  to  wish  to  escape  as  noiselessly 
as  possible. 

Alek  wrote  a  note,  and  sent  it  off  by  the  boy.  He  then 
took  from  a  drawer  a  legal-looking  paper,  tied  with  red  tape, 
and  addressed  Marshy  thus  :  "  Sir,  your  son  will  soon  be  here, 
and  your  wife  will  be  free  to  depart  with  him.  You  will 
also  be  free  to  go  when  you  have  put  your  proper  name  to 
this  document,  which  Mr.  Grappler,  a  legal  friend  of  mine, 
has  prepared  for  your  signature.  He  has  also  drawn  up 


442  WOLFSDEN. 

another  document  to  which  your  attention  will  be  emphati 
cally  called,  if  you  decline  this.  You  will  infer  from  the 
paper  that  Bragly  senior,  of  Wolfsden,  is  dead.  This  docu 
ment,"  continued  he,  opening  it  and  occasionally  quoting 
from  it,  "  this  document,  as  you  see,  is  already  sealed,  and, 
when  properly  signed  and  witnessed,  transfers  all  the  '  right, 
title,  and  interest,'  which  Simon  Bragly,  son  and  heir  of  the 
'  late  Solomon  Bragly,  of  Wolfsden,  has  in  the  property  of 
which  said  Bragly  was  seized  and  possessed  at  the  time  of 
his  death,'  to  '  Colonel  Jacob  Bowler,  of  Wolfsden,  aforesaid, 
in  trust,'  for  the  support  and  benefit  of  Susan  Barker  and 
her  son  '  Jotham  Barker,  widow  and  son  of  the  late  Benja 
min  Barker,  of  said  Wolfsdeu,  blacksmith,'  and  to  their  '  use 
and  behoof  forever.' 

"  My  motive,"  continued  Alek,  "  for  requiring  this  trans 
fer,  is  that  the  Bragly  here  mentioned  was  the  means  of 
turning  Barker  the  blacksmith  into  a  sot,  and  depriving  his 
family  of  their  proper  protection  and  support ;  and,  there 
fore,  his  property  should  go  to  recompense  the  injury.  I 
think  I  have  said  enough  to  bring  you  to  that  opinion ;  if 
not,  I  have  a  stronger  argument,  or,  at  least,  one  of  more 
personal  application." 

Marshy  guessed  well  enough  the  kind  of  argument  which 
Alek  held  in  reserve.  Since  the  mention  of  Mr.  Grappler, 
and  the  additional  document  drawn  up  for  him  in  case  of  his 
demurring  at  this,  he  felt  himself,  to  express  it  gently,  in  a 
delicate  position. 


CHAPTEK     XXXVII. 


MARSHY'S  delicate  position  may  be  briefly  explained. 
Simon  Bragly,  left  his  paternal  home  in  Wolfsden  about 
twenty  years  previously,  being  then  of  age.  He  went  to  seek 
his  fortune,  and  supposed  himself  well  qualified  to  make  his 
way  in  the  world  ;  for  he  had  learned  all  his  father's  maxims 
of  low  cunning,  and  had  np  scruples  of  honesty  to  interfere 
with  whatever  chance  of  gain  might  fall  in  his  way.  He  spent 
a  year  or  two  in  Saco,  then  a  year  or  two  in  Boston,  and  then 
a  year  or  two  in  New  York.  In  each  city  he  gained  practice 
and  experience  in  his  chosen  line  of  life,  so  that,  at  the  end 
of  six  years  of  advanced  pupilage  and  practice,  he  self-com- 
placently  considered  himself  a  finished  villain. 

He  did  himself  no  more  than  justice,  so  far  as  the  solid 
qualities  of  such  a  character  go  ;  but  he  was  somewhat  defi 
cient  in  the  tact  and  adroitness  which  characterize  the  most 
accomplished  professors  of  his  school.  His  natural  gifts  were 
not  equal  to  the  greatest  attainments  in  any  line.  Besides 
his  lack  of  capacity,  there  was  some  deficiency  in  that  earnest 
perseverance  and  singleness  of  purpose  which  is  necessary  to 
great  results;  for  he  had  devoted  himself  occasionally  to  de 
bauchery,  which  necessarily  impeded  his  race  for  preeminence 
in  the  sublimer  mysteries  of  knavery. 


444  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

Haying,  however,  tested  his  abilities  and  good  fortune,  by 
the  success  of  some  small  villanies,  he  le'.t  encouraged  to 
venture  on  a  larger  enterprise.  He  forged  his  employer's 
name  to  a  draft  of  considerable  amount,  and  sent  another 
person,  —  whether  innocent  or  confederate  is  not  known, —  to 
present  it  for  payment,  with  directions  to  bring  the  money  to 
a  certain  place.  Simon  did  not  await  his  emissary  at  that 
certain  place,  but  posted  himself  in  sight  of  the  bank  to  judge 
of  his  success.  Omens  were  not  auspicious.  The  emissary 
tarried  too  long.  A  boy  came  cut  of  the  bank,  and  ran  to  a 
police-station.  A  police-officer  came  to  the  bank.  When 
the  emissary  reiippeared,  the  police-officer  was  also  in  sight. 
The  emissary  hastened  to  the  place  of  rendezvous,  and  the 
police-officer  followed  and  enteved  with  him.  Simon  under 
stood  the  manoeuvre,  and  congratulated  himself  thut,  tbough 
he  had  not  got  the  money,  he  had  outwitted  the  officer. 

Henceforth  he  wisely  judged  that  New  York  was  not  his 
proper  sphere.-  He  had  already  abstracted  a  little  sum  from 
his  employer,  and  put  it  with  the  other  avails  of  his  profes 
sional  industry ;  and  with  this  means  he  immediately  ab 
sconded,  and,  though  advertised,  was  not  overtaken.  He 
found  his  way  to  North  Carolina,  which  he  judiciously  judged 
to  be  his  proper  sphere. 

It  is  not  worth  while  to  track  his  crooked  trail  very  closely. 
To  evade  pursuit,  he  changed  his  name  to  Marshy,  and,  after 
various  fortune,  sold  himself  to  Tim  Bateman's  daughter  of 
smutched  reputation,  for  the  consideration  of  a  plantation. 
It  was  worse  than  a  wooden-nutmeg  speculation,  for  both 
parties  got  the  worst  bargains  possible. 

When  Alek  first  saw  Marshy  at  Newbern,  he  was  struck 
with  something  in  his  face  at  once  familiar  and  disagreeable. 


WOLFSDEN.  445 

"  If  Bragly  had  a  brother,"  thought  Alek,  "  this  must  be  he; 
or,  can  it  be  his  son  ?  He  looks  too  old  for  that,  but  his 
reputed  habits  when  last  heard  from,  and  the  Carolina  cli 
mate,  may  have  added  to  his  age." 

The  more  Alck  studied  his  features,  and  expression,  and 
voice,  the  more  strongly  he  was  impressed  with  the  proba 
bility  of  the  supposition.  His  inquiries  at  Washington  con 
cerning  Marshy's  previous  history,  of  which  nobody  knew  any 
thing,  confirmed  his  belief;  for  concealment  is  seldom  sought 
but  to  escape  infamy.  He  told  Ike  Bowler  what  he  thought ; 
and  when  Ike  (whom  the  reader  has  recognized  as  Dr.  Polly- 
wog)  visited  Washington  and  saw  Marshy,  he  said  there  could 
be  no  mistake,  —  Marshy  must  be  a  Bragly,  for  nature  would 
never  fashion  two  families  on  such  a  shabby  model.  Alek, 
therefore,  upon  consulting  Squire  Grappler,  who  happened  to 
know  young  Bragly  and  his  history  when  in  New  York,  had 
the  papers  referred  to  made  out  in  preparation  for  his  ap 
pearance ;  for  it  was  judged  that,  upon  the  whole,  the  ends 
of  justice  would  be  better  subserved  by  inducing  the  rogue  to 
part  with  his  property  for  the  benefit  of  his  father's  victims, 
than  by  his  arrest  and  imprisonment. 

We  have  seen  that  when  Alek  in  effect  charged  upon 
Marshy  his  identity  with  Bragly,  he  showed  no  surprise. 
He  saw  himself  detected,  and  did  not  venture  on  denial.  Ho 
had  supposed  that  after  the  lapse  of  so  many  years  he  should 
not  be  recognized  in  New  York.  His  wish  now  was  to  retreat 
with  as  little  loss  as  possible ;  for  his  arrest  and  conviction 
as  a  forger  would  not  only  hurt  his  feelings,  but,  what  was 
worse,  would  endanger  his  fine  prospects  as  planter  and  guard 
ian  of  Bob's  patrimony,  and  perhaps  also  as  future  legisla 
tor,  representative,  judge,  governor,  or  president,  —  for  all 
38 


440  \V  0  L  1'  8  D  E  N  . 

which  offices  he  thought  his  talents  and  qualifications  to  be 
of  the  kind  most  in  request. 

Therefore,  when  Marshy  understood  that  by  resigning  his 
own  patrimony  for  the  benefit  of  his  father's  victims  he  might 
be  allowed  to  escape  the  present  dreaded  danger,  he  accepted 
the  compromise  as  a  lucky  chance.  He  acknowledged  him 
self  to  be  the  identical  Bragly  junior ;  and  went  with  Alek 
and  Harry  before  Squire  Grappler,  who  at  once  recognized 
him,  and  by  whose  legal  aid  the  deed  of  transfer  was  duly 
authenticated. 

When  they  returned  to  the  office,  Dr.  Pollywog  had  already 
brought  Bob,  who  was  very  dirty,  and  very  sulky,  and  re 
ceived  his  mother's  caresses,  coaxings,  and  promises,  with  a 
very  ill  grace.  He  "  did  n't  want  none  of  their  doggin'  arter 
him,"  and  wished  his  "  mother  and  Old  Sneaky  "  (meaning  his 
honored  father)  to  —  a  place  unnecessary  to  mention.  He 
swore  he  would  stay  in  New  York  "  where  there  was  some 
thing  of  some  'count,  —  music-grinders,  military  soldiers,  and 
monkeys." 

The  reader,  though  regretting  the  perjury,  will  be  gratified 
to  know  that  he  was  finally  persuaded  to  go  back  with  his 
mother  and  "  Old  Sneaky ;  "  and  that  they  still  continue  very 
creditably  to  fill  their  place  in  the  upper  circles  of  society  in 
Washington,  North  Carolina. 


CHAPTEK    XXXVIII. 


ALEK  wished  to  return  to  Mr.  Boynton  the  two  thousand 
five  hundred  dollars,  plundered  by  Marshy  and  borrowed  by 
himself,  but  the  generous  merchant  would  accept  no  part  of 
it.  After  consultation  with  all  parties,  it  was  finally 
determined  to  apply  the  whole  three  thousand  dollars  taken 
from  Marshy  for  the  benefit  of  the  slaves  at  Oakridge, 
whom  Harry  had  determined  to  emancipate,  and  to  instruct 
in  the  use  and  advantages  of  freedom.  Harry,  therefore 
(accompanied  by  Ike),  returned  to  Oakridge  ;  and,  after  con 
sulting  the  wishes  and  capabilities  of  the  slaves,  brought 
most  of  them  to  New  York,  where,  being  scattered  in  dif 
ferent  families  and  employments,  they  soon  acquired  ideas 
and  habits  of  self-dependent  industry  and  economy.  Those 
who  remained  in  Carolina,  being  superannuated,  or  other 
wise  incapacitated  for  freedom,  were  allowed  a  small  pension 
for  their  support. 

Ben  Blacksmith  found  employment  in  an  iron  foundery 
connected  with  Messrs.  Greening  &  Russet's  establishment, 
where  his  strength  and  dexterity  commanded  high  wages,  so 
that  he  soon  saved  a  considerable  sum  ;  and  then,  to  the 
surprise  of  his  employers,  asked  for  his  discharge.  He  made 
no  explanations,  but,  having  settled  his  small  affairs,  silently 


448  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

disappeared.  lie  was  not  heard  from  afterward  till  the 
account  of  the  capture  of  the  brig  "  Creole  "  electrified  the 
nation,  exciting  iu  the  friends  of  freedom  the  highest  admira 
tion,  and  in  the  lovers  of  slavery  the  fiercest  indignation. 

How  came  Ben  Blacksmith  again  in  slavery,  and  com 
pelled  to  achieve  his  freedom  by  desperate  strife  against 
armed  kidnappers  and  keepers  ?  He  returned  voluntarily  to 
the  land  of  slavery,  but  with  no  motive  of  again  submitting 
to  its  boasted  institutions. 

He  returned  to  the  region  of  slavery  from  the  same  motive 
which  led  Orpheus  to  brave  the  horrors  of  the  infernal  re 
gions  ;  which  urged  Menelaus  to,  ten  years  of  strife  and 
danger  on  the  plains  of  Troy  ;  which  brought  Samson  to  the 
Philistine's  house  of  bondage  ;  which  impelled  Don  Quixote 
to  encounter  dreadful  dangers ;  which  betrayed  Antony  to  a 
bloody  death. 

It  was  love  !  Of  life's  voyage,  the  tempting  siren,  the 
hidden  rock,  the  faithless  quicksand,  the  wrecking  hurricane, 
the  fatal  whirlpool. 

Of  life's  battle,  the  ambushed  foe,  the  unsuspected  mine, 
the  treacherous  ally,  the  fatal  destiny,  the  overwhelming  ene 
my,  the  Waterloo  defeat. 

Of  life's  economy,  the  wild  extravagance,  the  sanguine 
folly,  the  misplaced  trust,  the  desperate  venture,  the  reckless 
loss,  the  inevitable  bankruptcy. 

Of  life's  pilgrimage,  the  enchanted  ground,  the  slough  of 
despond,  the  vanity  fair,  the  doubting  castle,  the  dire  Apol- 
lyon,  the  giant  Despair,  the  city  of  destruction. 

Ben  Blacksmith  went  back  to  the  south  that  he  might 
rescue  his  dark  Virginia  bride  from  slavery.  While  in  con 
cealment  awaiting  his  opportunity,  he  was  betrayed  by  a 


WOLFSDEN.  449 

false  friend,  surrounded  by  an  armed  force,  and  loaded  with 
fetters.  He  was  sold,  with  others  of  his  acquaintance,  includ 
ing  the  wife  whom  he  had  come  to  rescue,  to  a  slave-trader 
to  be  carried  to  the  Louisiana  sugar  plantations,  where  the 
avowed  policy  is  to  work  men  and  women,  and  boys  and 
girls,  to  death  within  six  years,  and  to  replenish  their  gangs 
by  new  purchases. 

How  the  slave-trader,  after  completing  his  purchases, 
shipped  his  freight  of  human  beings  for  New  Orleans  on 
board  the  brig  "  Creole,"  fastening  them  with  fetters  and 
under  hatches ;  how,  on  the  voyage,  Ben  Blacksmith  and 
Madison  Washington,  with  other  heroes  whose  liberty-loving 
devotion  redeems  the  land  of  slavery  from  the  reproach  of 
utter  degeneracy,  burst  from  their  confinement,  and  inflicted 
just  vengeance  on  their  truculent  keepers  and  kidnappers, 
but  spared  those  who  submitted,  and  then,  with  a  prudence 
and  skill  unsurpassed  in  heroic  history,  navigated  the  vessel 
to  a  British  port,  and  there  maintained  their  own  and  their 
companions'  just  independence,  is  told  by  the  "  protest "  of 
the  owners  of  the  vessel  in  New  Orleans,  who,  though  com 
pelled  to  record  the  glorious  deed,  worthy  the  tallest  monu 
ment  ou  American  soil,  yet  suppressed  much  that  adds  to  the 
honor  of  the  victors. 

They  did  not  tell  of  the  wanton  cruelty  and  insult  which 
wound  up  to  desperate  valor  the  unarmed  slaves,  till,  brav 
ing  every  disadvantage,  they  rushed  upon  their  armed 
guards,  and  bore  them  headlong  to  the  deck,  or  over  the 
bulwarks. 

Nor  did  they  tell  how,  in  the  plenitude  of  their  irrespons 
ible  tyranny,  they  tortured  the  husband  by  cutting  with  the 
38* 


450  WOLFSDEN. 

merciless  whip  the  quivering  flesh  of  his  wife  —  his  wife, 
dearer  to  his  heart  than  its  own  life-blood. 

And  how,  when  her  little  child  besought  the  cruel  wretch 
"  not  to  whip  mamma,"  he  spurned  the  beseeching  babe  with 
his  boot,  and  sent  it  headlong  and  stunned  against  the  wall 
of  their  floating  dungeon. 

Then  the  electric  spark  darted  forth  from  the  overcharged 
brain  of  the  husband  and  father,  and  strung  his  nerves  to 
deeds  of  matchless  valor.  In  vengeance  the  volcano  found 
vent,  or  the  brain  would  have  burst  with  accumulated 
torture. 

With  superhuman  strength  he  wrenched  the  irons  that 
bound  his  wrists,  and  dealt  the  wretch  a  blow  that  needed 
no  repeating.  It  was  the  crisis  of  fate.  Then  the  outburst- 
ing  spirit  of  the  hero  inspired  congenial  spirits  around. 
Madison  Washington,  a  man  of  milder  mood  and  less  feared 
by  the  captors,  had  just  been  unfettered  that  he  might  per 
form  some  laborious  service  for  his  masters,  and  he  now 
sprung  to  the  side  of  Ben,  and  shouted  "  Liberty  !  " 

"Now  for  liberty,  boys  !  "  they  shouted  both,  and  sprang 
through  the  hatchway  upon  the  deck.  Their  first  onset 
decided  the  fate  of  the  day.  They  wrenched  the  muskets 
from  the  vainly-struggling  sentinels,  and  shouted  to  their 
companions,  now  fast  emerging  from  the  unguarded  hold,  and 
in  a  few  moments  the  victory  was  won. 

With  what  consummate  skill  the  fruits  of  victory  were 
secured ;  with  what  vigilance  they  guarded  against  treach 
ery  and  surprise,  and  compelled  their  tyrants  to  become  their 
servants,  and  to  pilot  them  to  a  haven  of  safety,  in  spite  of 
their  wish  to  betray  them  ;  with  what  forgiving  mercy  they 
abstained  from  all  retaliation  for  cruelties  received;  with  what 


WOLFSDEN.  451 

heaven-trusting  faith  they  throw  the  deadly  arms  overboard, 
relying  upon  British  justice  and  the  God  of  the  oppressed  to 
protect  them, —  all  this  may  be  gathered  from  the  story  even 
as  told  by  their  enemies  in  the  "protest"  of  the  owners;  and 
if  such  was  their  defamers'  story,  in  what  glorious  words 
might  their  eulogist  record  their  deeds  ! 

What  stirred  the  blood  of  these  submissive  and  all-endur 
ing  blacks  to  such  deeds  of  matchless  valor  ?  It  was  the 
controlling  energy  of  the  master  spirit  Ben,  communicating 
itself  like  the  electric  current  to  the  sympathizing  hearts 
about  him.  What  was  the  power  that  strung  his  own  spirit 
to  that  pitch  of  frenzied  valor  —  to  that  desperate  encounter 
with  adverse  odds,  where  prudence  would  have  counted  suc 
cess  impossible  ? 

It  was  that  power  which  bore  Ulysses  through  a  thousand 
dangers  again  to  his  long-deserted  Ithaca,  and  his  long-wid 
owed  Penelope ;  which  sustained  Jacob  in  his  twice  seven 
years'  service  to  the  faithless  Laban ;  which  inspired  the 
gentle  spirit  of  Petrarch  in  strains  of  deathless  song,  and 
prompted  the  heroic  Tell  to  deeds  of  deathless  fame. 

It  was  love,  — which  dares  all  things  for  its  devoted  object, 
and  snatches  victory  even  from  opposing  Fate. 

It  was  love,  —  of  life's  battle  the  invincible  champion,  the 
heaven-sent  aid  of  chariots  and  horses  of  fire,  the  sacred  ban 
ner,  the  palladium  of  power,  the  inspiring  watchword,  the 
tocsin  of  victory. 

Of  life's  economy,  the  cheap  luxury,  the  elevating  dignity, 
the  gain  counterbalancing  all  losses,  the  insurance  covering 
all  risks,  the  guarantee  of  ultimate  success. 

Of  life's  voyage,  the  unerring  compass,  the  leading  star, 


452  WOLFSDEN. 

the  hopeful  anchor,  the  protecting  flag,  the  directing  helm, 
the  welcome  port. 

Of  life's  journey,  the  flowery  path,  the  pleasant  compan 
ion,  the  refreshing  fountain,  the  cheerful  sunshine,  the  sweet 
return. 

Of  life's  pilgrimage,  the  interpreter's  house,  the  greatheart 
guide,  the  delectable  mountains,  the  embosomed  roll,  the  key 
of  promise,  the  helping  angel,  the  celestial  city. 


CHAPTEK    XXXIX. 


A    VISION. 

LET  the  heart  be  pure,  and  the  faith  be  clear,  and  the  soul 
be  strong  to  pierce  the  bounds  of  earthly  knowledge,  and 
learn  the  wonders  of  the  spirit  world.  We  are  on  its  borders. 
We  are  in  its  midst.  The  soul  has  eyes  to  see  a  million  sur 
rounding,  sympathizing,  kindred  souls.  But  the  film  of  mor 
tality  curtains  the  spiritual  vision,  and  we  grope  in  spiritual 
darkness,  though  surrounded  by  spiritual  light. 

So  the  man  born  blind  walked  the  streets  of  Jerusalem, 
but  saw  not  its  holy  temple,  nor  its  glorious  sunlight,  nor 
the  faces  of  his  brethren ;  for  his  eyes,  though  formed  to  see, 
were  darkened  by  a  film,  and  he  saw  not  the  wonderful  and 
pleasant  things  of  the  world  wherein  he  walked.  So  the  film 
of  mortality  shuts  our  spiritual  eyes  from  the  inward  world 
wherein  we  walk,  and  we  see  not  its  spiritual  glories,  nor  our 
spirit  companions. 

But  when  the  Lord  of  light  appeared  and  touched  the 
blind  man's  eyes,  though  all  things  else  remained  as  before, 
he  was  ushered  into  a  new  world,  of  glories  inconceivable. 
So  the  Lord  of  light  has  power  to  open  the  spiritual  eyes 
of  mortals.  This  grace  he  has  shown  to  some,  but  not  to 


454  WOLFSDEN. 

all.  Of  the  many  blind  men  of  Judea,  but  few  were 
healed. 

0,  deep,  unfathomable  mysteries  of  our  being !  Why  do 
men  say  that  the  age  of  miracles  is  past?  Each  man  is  a 
miracle.  Each  new  discovery  of  the  laws  and  powers  of  mat 
ter  is  a  revelation.  God  still  speaks  to  man  in  the  thunder's 
crash,  and  the  ocean's  roar,  and  the  whispering  breeze,  as  once 
in  the  Eden  garden-walk. 

In  visions  of  the  night  God's  angels  have  talked  with  men; 
or  on  the  holy  mountain,  or  on  the  desert  plain,  or  in  the 
wilderness,  or  in  the  crowded  streets. 


Frances  was  ever,  while  amongst  us,  but  as  a  visitant  from 
some  brighter  sphere.  Native  grace  and  loveliness  surrounded 
her  as  with  a  more  ethereal  atmosphere.  Always  pleased  and 
cheerful,  she  threw  the  sunlight  of  her  own  happy  disposition 
into  every  place  where  she  entered,  and  her  presence  was 
always  an  assurance  of  pleasantness  and  peace.  Where  she 
came,  even  the  rude  affected  gentleness,  the  overbearing  be 
came  affable,  and  the  selfish  learned  to  be  generous.  Human 
nature,  however  degraded,  never  becomes  blind  to  the  attrac 
tions  of  unaffected  goodness.  Happy  Frances !  the  favorite 
companion  of  angels,  even  while  in  mortal  life.  Happy 
spirits !  who  now,  with  the  angel  Frances,  rejoice  in  immor 
tality. 

There  seemed  no  failure  of  Fanny's  health  or  strength ;  — 
her  eye  was  bright,  her  step  was  free,  her  voice  was  clear,  her 
cheeks  lost  not  their  lovely  glow.  But  she  talked  to  her 
mother  of  heaven,  as  a  home  where  she  soon  should  go  ;  and 
spoke  cheerfully  and  happily,  as  though  it  were  not  a  matter 
of  regret,  nor  even  of  solemn  thought.  It  had  become  familiar 


WOLFSDEN.  455 

to  her  mind,  as  if  it  were  but  a  removal  to  a  new  and  better 
tenement,  where  the  same  loving  friends  would  still  be  about 
her,  or  would  soon  follow. 

There  was  a  heart  which  throbbed  with  anguish  then,  when 
her  true  words  told  of  its  coming  bereavement.  It  throbs 
with  remembered  anguish  now,  though  so  many  years  have 
passed.  But,  away  with  selfish  regrets !  She  said  that  she 
would  still  be  about  us,  and  love  us  ;  and  it  is  so.  Soon  the 
veil  will  be  removed. 

THE    VISION,    AS   TOLD   BY   HERSELF. 

It  was  a  moonlit  night,  and  Frances  had  retired  to  bed 
alone.  The  door  which  opened  into  her  mother's  room  was 
shut,  but  not  fastened.  She  lay  quietly,  thinking  only  of 
common  affairs,  when,  without  the  slightest  feeling  of  alarm, 
she  became  conscious  of  the  presence  of  other  persons.  There 
were  three  of  them,  and  all  unknown  to  her.  One  was  an 
elderly  lady,  looking  much  like  her  mother,  but  more  slender, 
and  dressed  in  Quaker  fashion.  Another  appeared  as  her 
daughter,  and  looked  much  like  Frances  herself,  but  dressed 
like  the  mother.  The  third  was  an  elderly  man,  looking 
benevolent  and  happy,  but  rather  staid  and  precise. 

The  little  girl  approached  the  bedside,  followed  by  the 
mother.  Their  faces  were  radiant  with  goodness  and  love. 
"  Will  you  go  with  us  a  little  while,  and  see  the  new  home?  " 
said  the  daughter. 

The  invitation  was  so  gentle  and  winning,  that  Frances 
thought  not  of  refusing,  but  gave  her  hand  in  confidence. 
Instantly  her  relations  to  the  things  about  her  were  changed. 
She  was  no  longer  confined  to  her  bed,  nor  to  the  room,  nor 
even  to  her  bodily  form.  Neither  the  curtains,  nor  walls,  nor 


456  WOLFSDEN. 

any  of  the  surrounding  world  of  matter,  obstructed  her  sight 
or  her  movements.  A  vast  and  delightful  plain  of  waving 
groves  and  winding  streams  and  charming  flowers  opened 
before  her.  Thousands  of  radiant  beings,  with  looks  of  love 
and  social  joy,  thronged  the  delightful  region,  and  seemed  to 
expect  and  welcome  her  approach.  She  felt  the  attraction  of 
mutual  sympathy,  and  hastened  to  join  them.  To  one,  even 
more  than  to  the  others,  her  soul  was  linked  in  love. 

"  I  have  long  been  your  guardian  angel,"  said  the  bright 
being ;  "  and  now  I  will  show  you  the  delights  and  the  duties 
of  immortality.  Here  we  are  free  from  earthly  hindrances 
and  infirmities ;  and  here  duty  is  ever  a  delight,  because  our 
minds  are  moulded  in  the  love  of  duty.  The  world  of  infinite 
progression  is  before  us,  and  every  step  is  a  new  joy,  higher 
and  better  than  mortals  know.  The  march  of  improvement 
has  no  limit,  and  its  resources  of  delight  are  inexhaustible. 
Millions  of  happy  spirits  have  progressed  for  millions  of  ages 
in  these  paths  of  peace,  and  are  ever  filled  with  new  wonder 
as  worlds  of  new  and  varied  happiness  are  unfolded  before 
them.  How  impossible  is  it  that  mortals  should  comprehend 
the  idea  of  infinity !  Not  even  seraphs  can  compass  the 
thought. 

"  Yet  it  is  not  that  the  soul  travels  far  to  its  heaven.  It 
is  only  the  awakening  of  new  powers;  for  the  more  the. soul 
is  developed,  the  more  it  is  capable  of  appreciating  and  enjoy 
ing.  Creation  has  no  limits,  either  in  extent  or  variety,  when 
the  powers  have  become  expanded  and  refined  to  survey  it. 
But  mortals  are  like  the  beasts  which  grovel  upon  the  earth, 
and  know  nothing  but  its  grossest  gifts.  The  dull  ox  grazes 
in  the  meadow,  or  basks  in  the  sunshine ;  but  feels  not  the 
beauty  and  fragrance  of  the  flowery  green,  and  has  no  ear  for 


WOLFSDEN.  457 

the  warbling  melody  of  the  grove,  and  no  eye  or  thought  to 
pierce  the  wonders  of  the  starry  heavens.  Of  all  that  Heaven 
bestows,  only  the  herbage  and  the  warmth  of  the  sun  is  within 
the  scope  of  his  capacities.  Mankind  have  faculties-  a  little 
more  expanded  and  refined  to  embrace  the  things  about  them, 
yet  theirs  is  but  a  slight  advance  toward  the  high  progression 
of  spirits. 

"  Creation  has  no  limits.  These  spiritual  bodies  which  we 
have,  and  this  wonderful  landscape  which  surrounds  us,  though 
invisible  to  mortal  eyes,  is  still  as  much  a  part  of  creation  as 
the  grosser  substance  of  earth.  In  this  wonderful  creation 
you  also  continually  move,  though  your  eyes  are  not  open  to 
behold  it.  Unimaginable  beauties  and  angel  companions  sur 
round  you ;  and  they  often  influence  your  minds,  and  commu 
nicate  thoughts  of  which  you  know  not  the  source.  But  it  is 
only  to  those  who  bring  themselves  near  to  the  spirit-sphere 
that  we  have  power  to  communicate. 

"  Not  all  who  enter  this  world  arc  capable  of  enjoying  its 
happiness.  They  who  have  nourished  the  passions  of  avarice, 
of  envy,  of  hatred,  or  of  low  sensuality,  are  unfitted  for  heav 
enly  joys.  What  are  delights  to  the  good  are  plagues  to  the 
evil ;  and  the  tastes  which  they  have  formed  find  no  food. 
See,  afar  off,  at  the  foot  of  that  unsightly  mountain,  an  un 
happy  group.  Their  faces  show  their  discontent.  Even  now 
they  are  in  contention.  Vulgar  taste  ungratificd,  or,  if  grati 
fied,  unenjoycd;  sour  disdain,  gnawing  -envy,  soul-racking 
hate;  ignorance,  which  scorns  truth;  jealousy,  which  repels 
confidence ;  cruelty,  which  feels  no  sympathy,  —  these  are  the 
kindred  cankers  of  earthly  life :  they  arc  the  devils,  self-be 
gotten,  who  guard  the  infernal  gates  ;  for  these  gates  are  only 
•perverted  wills.  They  herd  together,  though  not  in  peace. 
39 


458  WOLFSDEN. 

Theirs  is  the  affinity  of  baseness,  and  they  are  repelled  by 
inward  antipathy  from  the  good. 

"  Let  us  partake  of  these  surrounding  fruits.  You  have 
tasted  nothing  on  earth  so  delicious.  But  their  excellence  is, 
that  they  nourish  not  only  our  spiritual  bodies,  but  also  our 
souls.  Observe  the  fragrance  of  these  flowers,  and  their 
variety,  each  with  its  own  delightful  perfume.  How  refresh 
ing  are  these  fountains !  —  how  grateful  the  breezes  ! 

"  Now,  let  us  ascend  the  empyrean  heights ;  for,  in  what 
ever  direction  we  move,  we  equally  ascend ;  or,  rather,  the 
distinctions  of  height  and  depth,  in  the  earthly  sense,  do  not 
prevail  here,  but  only  in  a  moral  sense.  The  highest-ascended 
angels  stand  by  our  side,  or  dart  with  us  through  space ;  their 
loftiness  of  ascent  is  within  them,  and  they  gladly  help  us  to 
rise  toward  their  eminence. 

"  Yonder  bright  being  is  my  guardian  angel,  as  I  am 
yours.  See !  he  kindly  proffers  to  accompany  us,  and  invites 
us  to  a  circuit  among  the  infinite  heavens.  Together,  gently 
or  swiftly,  with  one  mind  they  fly." 

The  worlds  of  wonders  opened  to  Frances'  sight  were  incon 
ceivable  ;  as  if  the  vast  concave  sky  were  filled  with  floating, 
sparkling  bubbles,  and  each  bubble  magnified  into  a  world  of 
surpassing  size  and  beauty,  each  filled  with  its  own  peculiar 
wonders  and  delights,  yet  all  uniting  in  one  grand  whole, 
through  which  the  happy  dwellers  might  pass  at  will.  Such 
seemed  the  opening  panorama  of  heaven. 

"  Yet  these,"  said  the  guide,  "  are  but  the  beginning  of 
scenes  of  which  there  is  no  end.  The  archangels  of  uncounted 
ages  know  that  these  wonders  are  without  limit.  They  are  the 
works  of  an  infinite  God  ;  and  he  has  made  them  also  infinite, 
even  as  he  has  formed  us  for  infinity." 


WOLFSDEN.  45ft 

"But,  where  is  the  heaven  of  God's  throne?  and  where  is 
Christ  the  beloved  Son  ?  "  asked  Frances  of  the  superior  spirit. 

The  angel  smiled  sweetly,  and  laid  his  hand  upon  his 
breast.  Heaven  and  Christ  were  there. 

"  Think  you,"  said  he,  "  that  God's  throne  is  afar  off,  or 
that  his  kingdom  is  confined  to  place?  Through  all  the  in 
comprehensible  vastness  of  infinity  there  is  no  place  where  his 
glories  dwell  more  than  in  your  own  heart,  nor  any  other 
place  where  you  could  approach  and  dwell  among  them.  The 
loftiest  seraphs  who  stand  in  his  presence  are  but  those  whose 
faculties  are  most  nobly  improved,  and  who  thus  come  into 
nearer  unity  with  his  will.  They  then  dwell  in  the  immedi 
ate  brightness  of  his  glory ;  for  his  glories  are  unfolded  within 
them.  Learn,  then,  and  understand  what  Christ  told  you  long 
before,  that  '  God's  kingdom  is  within  you,'  and  cease  to 
form  ideas  of  a  local  heaven,  —  as  though  He  who  is  omni 
present  could  be  less  in  one  place  than  in  another.  His 
highest  and  happiest  angels  are  ever  drawing  nearer  to  him, 
and  more1  clearly  beholding  his  glories ;  because  each,  within 
his  own  heart,  explores  and  ascends,  and  receives  the  inward 
light.  Yet,  though  they  ever  advance  in  wisdom,  and  good 
ness,  and  happiness,  the  way  of  progression  is  still  infinite. 

"  To  you,  as  to  us,  it  is  given  to  partake  these  heavenly 
fruits  around  us.  Often  have  you  unknowingly  been  refreshed, 
by  them.  The  fragrance  of  heavenly  airs,  wafting  good  de 
sires,  hopes,  and  resolutions,  has  revived  you.  Heavenly 
streams  of  confidence,  resignation,  faith,  forgiveness,  charity, 
and  love,  have  refreshed  and  strengthened  you.  When  you 
have  been  startled  by  new  triumphs  of  your  own  thoughts, 
and  when  spiritual  light  has  unexpectedly  filled  your  mind,  it 
was  then  that  you  had  unconsciously  been  refreshed  by  heav- 


460  WOLFSDEN. 

enly  fountains,  and  partaken  of  spiritual  food ;  and  when  you 
now  return  to  your  earthly  sphere,  where  your  pilgrimage 
will  be  brief,  your  soul  will  be  strengthened  by  what  you  have 
seen  and  tasted  with  us. 

"  Behold  a  sign  by  which  you  may  know  that  you  have 
seen  realities,  and  talked  with  angels." 

Frances  looked,  and  saw  her  brother  Alek,  seated  at  a  rude 
table,  in  a  rustic  and  roughly- furnished  room,  and  surrounded 
by  wild  and  unwonted  scenery.  One  other  person,  of  refined 
and  intellectual  appearance,  accompanied  him  ;  and  these  two 
were  attended  by  strange-looking  persons,  of  various  complex 
ions,  and  savage  though  submissive  aspect.  Before  him  lay 
a  parcel  of  letters  just  written,  one  of  which  was  directed  to 
herself,  informing  her  that  he  was  then  in  South  America, 
whither  he  had  gone  suddenly,  in  company  with  a  son  of  one 
of  his  employers,  on  business  which  would  require  extensive 
journeys,  and  consume  much  time. 

Frances  clearly  saw  and  studied  her  brother's  counte 
nance,  and  admired  his  air  of  sagacious  resolution  altd  delib 
erate  self-confidence.  But,  while  she  looked,  she  felt  herself 
rapidly  receding  from  him ;  and  in  a  moment  the  vision  had 
passed  away,  and  she  found  herself  in  her  own  room,  and 
alone. 

The  strong  assurance  expressed  by  Frances  that  she  had 
indeed  conversed  with  spirits  made  a  deep  impression  upon 
her  parents,  and  others  who  shared  her  confidence.  In  a  few 
weeks  a  full  confirmation  of  the  spirit-intelligence  was  received 
in  a  letter  from  Alek.  He  was  indeed  in  South  America, — 
having  been  sent  by  his  enterprising  employers,  in  company 
with  Mr.  Sylvester  Russet,  son  of  the  junior  partner  of  the 


WOLFSDEN.  461 

firm,  and,  like  his  father,  strongly  devoted  to  the  science  ot 
agricultural  husbandry.  And  here  I  cannot  but  express  my 
regret  that  so  few  young  men  of  talent  and  energy  like  his 
are  led  to  engage  in  a  field  of  enterprise  so  healthful  and 
remunerative,  and  giving  scope  for  the  largest  activity  of 
body  and  mind. 

Young  Mr.  Russet,  having  received  all  the  advantages  of  a 
scientific  training  in  the  best  schools,  devoting  himself  espe 
cially  to  those  departments  of  natural  science  pertaining  to 
agriculture  as  a  profession,  formed  a  plan  of  exploring  differ 
ent  regions  of  South  America,  to  transplant  to  the  soil  of  New 
York  such  of  its  productions  as  might  appear  worthy  of  the 
experiment.  His  father,  though  he  approved  the  plan,  would 
not  consent  to  his  son's  attempting  it  except  on  condition  that 
Alek  should  accompany  him ;  for  Alek's  good  conduct  and 
good  fortune  had  by  this  time  gained  him  a  reputation  for 
energy  and  sagacity  equal  to  any  emergency  :  and  it  was  in 
this  way  that  he  was  introduced  to  a  new  field  of  adventure, 
well  adapted  to  his  nature,  and  favored  with  the  advantage  of 
cultivated  and  scientific  companionship. 

It  belongs  not  to  this  history  to  pursue  the  adventures  of 
these  utilitarian  travellers ;  but  it  may  be  said,  in  passing, 
that  to  their  active  and  successful  researches  and  selections 
the  magnificent  gardens  and  plantations  about  New  York  owe 
some  of  their  choicest  embellishments.  Their  stay  was  pro 
longed  to  nearly  three  years,  during  which  they  visited  most  of 
the  semi-civilized  countries  of  the  southern  continent,  exam 
ined  their  productions  and  resources,  and  rendered  substantial 
services  to  their  employers  in  a  commercial  view,  besides 
adding  much  curious  knowledge  to  the  public  stock. 
39* 


CHAPTER    XL. 


THE  full  story  of  a  single  life  would  fill  many  volumes. 
How  briefly,  then,  must  we  note  events  who  attempt  the  his 
tory  of  a  whole  town  in  a  single  hook!  Matters  which  were 
a  month's  wonder  in  Wolfsden  must  be  compressed  in  a  single 
line ;  and,  like  the  school-girl's  genealogical  sampler,  one  little 
page  must  suffice  for  all  that  is  important  in  many  lives, — 
their  births,  marriages,  and  deaths,  with  moral  reflections, 
rejoicings,  and  regrets,  —  an  epitaph,  a  tree,  and  a  tomb. 

The  Wolfsden  Philharmonic  Society,  after  snapping  many 
strings,  and  exploding  much  wind,  and  setting  many  teeth  on 
edge,  —  and  many  tempers,  too,  —  at  length  composed  all  its 
differences  by  the  expulsion  or  voluntary  withdrawal  of  all 
its  members,  who  colonized  into  new  harmonical  associ 
ations,  borrowing  names  from  Handel,  Haydn,  Mozart,  and 
Beethoven,  but  manufacturing  music  independent  of  all 
masters.  Squire  Noseby's  oft-resounding  hall  is  now  silent  as 
the  cave  of  Fingal.  Squire  Noseby  is  silent,  too.  Dropsy 
did  it.  Brandy  began  it.  Snuff  and  tobacco  aided  it. 
Squire  Noseby  has  blown  his  last  twang. 

Squire  Chinby  still  flourishes.  We  cannot  pause  now ;  but 
we  must  again  visit  Chinby,  if  but  for  his  blue-eyed  daughters, 
as  bright  and  cerulean  as  ever. 


WOLFSDEN.  463 

Time's  wheel  revolves,  and  brings  many  changes  ;  but  the 
pivot  stands  still  and  unchangeable.  Lucinda  Boreman  is 
still  the  same  sweet  slender  siren  as  in  other  days,  —  her 
curls  still  captivating,  and  her  everlasting  net-work  purse, 
like  Penelope's  web,  still  perplexing  her  lovers.  But  Luciuda 
has  seen  the  sorrow  which  comes  nearest  a  faithful  daughter's 
heart,  the  loss  of  her  mother.  Her  smile  is  sadder  than 
before,  but  not  the  less  sweet. 

The  good  old  parson  has  received  an  add£d  dignity.  Be 
fore  his  bereavement  it  would  have  been  a  glory  and  a 
triumph.  Even  now  it  adds  a  solemn  grandeur  to  his  pres 
ence.  He  is  made  a  doctor  of  divinity.  No  parson  better 
deserves  the  degree  than  he.  No  town  better  deserves  a 
doctor  of  divinity  than  Wolfsden. 

Ax  is  a  faithful  servant  —  faithful  to  his  patron  and  to  him 
self.  He  has  grown  to  be  a  likely  lad  of  sixteen,  and  tall  as 
some  boys  at  twenty.  ;  He  perseveres  in  his  resolution  to  be 
a  schoolmaster,  and  the  very  resolution  has  already  given  him 
the  air  of  one.  Besides,  he  has  really  gained  much  knowl 
edge.  He  has  made  the  most  of  district  school  advantages, 
and  has  devoted  all  leisure  hours  and  holidays  to  study. 
Lucinda  has  been  his  teacher ;  that  is,  she  has  heard  him 
recite  lessons,  spell,  abbreviate,  and  parse,  and  has  taught 
him  to  guess  riddles  and  make  acrostics.  She  has  set  copies 
for  him,  and  with  her  pretty  fingers  showed  him  how  to  hold 
the  pen.  She  sometimes  bends  over  the  slate  to  show  him 
the  sums,  and  her  captivating  curls  wave  near  his  cheek,  — 
possibly  they  may  once  or  twice  have  brushed  against  his 
budding  whiskers.  Ax  loves  to  write  and  cipher  —  who  would 
not? 

The  good  old  parson,  who  has  thus  given  a  home  to  the 


464  WOLFSDEN. 

fatherless  in  his  own  house,  forgets  not  the  widow.  He  comes 
often  to  Colonel  Bowler's  to  see  poor  Susan.  But  Susan  is 
no  longer  poor,  in  any  sense.  Her  comfortable  residence, 
since  Bang's  death,  has  much  improved  her  appearance,  and 
she  is  plump,  cheerful,  and  good-looking.  Her  accession  to 
Bragly's  property  (for  she  has  the  benefit  of  it  while  Ax  is  a 
minor,  and  he  says  she  shall  always  have  it)  has  made  her 
quite  wealthy.  Whisperers  say  that  the  parson's  attentions 
to  the  widow  have  been  more  regular  and  particular  since  her 
good  fortune  than  before.  The  insinuation  is  not  becoming, 
if  intended  to  reflect  upon  the  good  minister's  motives,  as 
though  they  could  be  mercenary.  Charity  thinketh  no  evil, 
—  especially  of  a  doctor  of  divinity. 

Major  Murray  and  his  wife  miss  Margaret  much.  As 
monotonous  time  moves  slowly  on,  they  miss  her  more  and 
more.  They  are  in  the  uncomfortable  position  of  people  who 
have  nothing  to  plague  them.  The  old  lady  cooks,  and  pam 
pers  the  hired  man  and  the  cat,  but  cannot  find  half  enough 
employment  in  that  way.  She  has  knit  a  trunk  full  of  stock 
ings  ;  but  there  is  nobody  to  wear  them  out,  and  no  darning 
to  be  done.  If  sometimes  a  moth  makes  a  hole,  she  is  thank 
ful  foe  the  favor,  and  makes  the  most  of  it ;  but  such  good 
luck  comes  seldom,  for  she  beats  and  brushes  her  hoarded 
stores  every  week,  which  happily  passes  away  some  super 
numerary  hours.  She  sweeps  her  house  twice  a  day.  Once, 
in  her  palmy  days,  she  could  have  made  a  glorious  dust ;  but 
now  nothing  comes  of  it.  She  taught  the  major  long  ago  to 
clean  his  shoes  as  he  entered  the  house ;  and  now,  though  he 
seldom  goes  in  the  dirt,  he  is  tediously  scrupulous,  and  makes 
no  tracks  to  give  occasion  for  mop  or  broom.  Poor  madam 
is  puzzled  what  to  do;  yet,  as  the  mill-stone  still  revolves 


WOLFSDEX.  465 

though  the  corn  is  all  ground,  so  the  busy  lady  still  goes 
round,  and  tries  to  make  a  comfortable  clatter. 

Colonel  Bowler  still  reports  himself  as  fit  for  service.  The 
spirit  of  Seventy-six  sustains  him.  He  says  the  campaign  is  a 
pretty  long  one,  but  he  trusts  that  it  will  end  honorably,  and  that 
he  bhall  be  promoted  into  the  great  army  above,  where  every 
soldier  is  greater  than  conqueror  or  king.  The  "  Adjutant " 
is  still  the  colonel's  favorite  "  staff,"  and  by  this  time  a  pretty 
stout  one.  The  boy  loves  his  grand'ther  more  than  all  other 
playmates,  —  so  permanent  are  the  affections  which  are  fixed 
and  fostered  in  childhood. 

Amy  is  as  sweet  as  ever  —  sweeter,  for  there  is  more  of 
her,  and  she  is  all  sweetness.  She  has  grown  up  from  a 
pretty  child  to  a  more  than  pretty  maiden,  but  still  is  as  art 
less  and  unpretending  as  in  her  bread-and-butter  days  — 
the  same  generous,  impulsive  heart,  the  same  sincere,  over 
flowing  affections.  The  instinctive  love  of  truth  and  good 
ness,  and  the  antipathy  to  wrong ;  the  care  and  regard  for 
others'  welfare,  fearless  for  herself;  the  nice  sense  of  propriety 
which  nature  gives  to  those  whom  she  chooses  to  be  known 
as  ladies,  wherever  they  may  be  found;  all  the  loveliness  of 
childhood,  with  the  added  dignity  and  worth  of  womanhood — • 
these  were,  these  still  are  thy  qualities,  dear  sister  mine. 
From  infancy  till  now,  thy  life  has  been  a  continual  lesson  oi 
goodness,  and  thy  presence  a  reward. 


CHAPTER    XLI. 


IN  reverent  silence  let  us  approach  the  chamber  where  the 
soul  prepares  to  change  its  earthly  garment  for  the  robe  of 
immortality. 

Pale  as  the  pillow  which  supports  her  feeble  form,  mourn 
fully  beautiful  as  the  white  rose  which  even  now  withers  by 
her  side,  with  failing  breath  and  fluttering  pulse,  the  young 
Frances  awaits  her  summons  to  the  spirit  sphere. 

A  hectic  glow  at  intervals  passes  over  her  cheek,  and  her 
eyes  dilate  with  unusual  brightness.  It  is  as  if  the  curtain 
were  lifted,  and  the  soul's  vision  looked  beyond  mortal  things, 
while  a  rosy  gleam  of  immortality  illumines  her  face.  But 
the  hectic  glow  passes  away,  and  the  eyes  are  closed.  Not 
yet  is  the  spirit  victory  won. 

Sometimes  she  has  strength  to  speak  a  little.  When  her 
friend  knelt  at  her  bedside,  and  took  her  thin,  transparent 
hand,  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips,  she  faintly  smiled,  and 
said,  "  It  is  but  dust,  —  soon  I  shall  have  a  form  better  worth 
loving." 

When  a  companion  asked  her  if  she  suffered  much,  she 
cheerfully  answered  :  "  No  ;  my  body  has  pain,  but  no  more 
than  I  can  easily  bear;  and  my  soul  has  no  pain,  but  is  filled 
with  peace  and  joy.  How  good  was  the  Saviour,  to  teach  us 


WOLFSDEN.  467 

that  these  little  pains  are  but  the  birth  to  a  better  life,  and  to 
Bhow  us  how  to  bear  them  !  " 

It  was  wonderful  to  observe  how  constantly  she  considered 
the  soul  as  distinct  and  separate  from  the  body,  and  as  the 
only  essential  interest.  In  speaking  of  herself,  she  did  not 
include  the  idea  of  her  outward  being.  "  I  seem,"  said  she, 
"  to  perceive  my  gradual  separation  from  the  body,  and  often 
to  watch  the  progress  of  rny  new  birth.  Yet  I  neither  wish  to 
hasten  or  delay  it.  God  has  ordered  it  aright.  The  bud 
swells  and  the  flower  expands  by  his  rules  ;  it  is  so  with  us." 

To  one  who  read  a  hymn  referring  to 

"  The  faithful  Saviour,  who  shall  come' 
Out1  dust  to  ransom  from  the  tomb," 

she  replied  :  "  O  no  !  not  the  dust.  We  shall  be  done  with 
dust.  'Nothing  which  goes  to  the  tomb  returns.  The  body 
belongs  to  the  tomb.  Our  Saviour  came  to  raise  us  from  the 
body." 

Another  read  or  spoke  of  the  death  of  the  righteous  as  a 
blessed  sleep,  and  she  replied  :  "  Not  sleep,  but  a  blessed 
waking.  We  are  not  fully  awake  while  in  the  body,  but 
when  we  leave  the  flesh  we  shall  have  spiritual  bodies,  which 
will  not  retard  the  soul  with  sleep,  nor  with  other  infirmities. 
God  has  given  us  these  bodies  only  to  prepare  us  for  better 
ones." 

To  her  mother  she  said  :  "  Think  of  me  as  with  you  still. 
God  will  permit  me  to  minister  to  you,  and  others  whom  I 
love  ;  and  it  will  be  a  part  of  my  happiness  to  commune  with 
vou,  and  to  sustain  you  till  you  also  shall  be  free,  and  we 
shall  be  sister  angels."  —  "  Only  remember,"  said  she,  play 
fully,  "  that  there  I  shall  be  the  eldest." 


468  WOLFSDEN. 

As  the  moment  of  her  dissolution  approached,  she  seemed 
mostly  insensible  to  outward  things,  but  her  countenance 
often  expressed  the  soul's  communings,  and  a  radiant  smile 
passed  over  her  features.  Through  the  thin  and  broken  veil 
of  mortality,  she  may  have  seen  and  talked  with  the  happy 
ministering  spirits  in  the  angel  sphere. 

When  the  last  earthly  hour  approached,  there  was  a  struggle 
of  bodily  pain,  severe,  but  short,  and  then  she  breathed  calmly, 
but  more  and  more  faintly,  till  daybreak.  As  the  light 
dawned  she  rallied  her  strength  for  a  moment,  and  wished  to 
speak.  Her  sister  Helen  bent  over  her  to  catch  her  words, 
but  could  distinctly  hear  only  the  word  "SEE."  The  expres 
sion  of  her  countenance  explained  the  rest.  It  was  some 
beautiful  sight  of  which  she  wished  to  speak 

How  beautiful  was  that  mortal  body  which  we  consigned 
to  the  grave  !  —  0  !  then  how  surpassingly  beautiful  must  be 
the  spiritual !  We  cannot  conceive,  but,  when  our  spirit  vic 
tory  is  gained,  then  we  shall  "  see." 

Let  us  bravely  bear  our  earthly  lot,  our  burthens  and 
bereavements,  rejoicing  in  the  treasures  of  love  which  shall 
surely  be  restored  to  our  faithfulness.  And  let  us  not  mourn 
that  those  whom  we  love  are  sooner  advanced  to  the  blessed 
sphere.  If  death  were  indeed  dreadful,  its  most  dreadful  form 
would  be  a  long-protracted  earthly  life,  with  the  successive 
loss  of  all  our  joys,  and  decay  of  our  powers.  But  to  the 
truly  enlightened  death  in  no  form  is  dreadful ;  it  is  but  the 
sudden  or  the  gradual  awakening  to  a  new  and  glorious  life. 

Yet  it  was  mournful  news  to  pass  from  house  to  house  in 
Wolfsden,  when  the  young  Frances,  so  lately  the  fairest, 
loveliest,  and  most  welcome,  wherever  she  appeared,  was  now 
departed  from  our  sight. 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  .  469 

The  young  and  old,  from  far  and  near,  came  to  take  a  last 
look  of  the  form  no  longer  animated  by  the  spirit  which 
moulded  it  in  such  grace,  and  to  learn  anew  the  lesson  of 
death,  so  often  learned,  yet  so  little  understood. 

In  little  scattered  groups,  with  hushed  voices,  they  spoke 
of  how  she  looked  when  they  saw  her  last  —  so  blithe  and 
beautiful ;  or  told  what  they  knew  of  her  patient  sickness,  and 
how  it  was  believed  that  she  had  talked  with  angels,  and 
foreknew  her  early  death  ;  or  they  spoke  of  the  absent  brother 
—  how  dearly  he  loved  her,  and  how  he  would  grieve. 

The  scripture  which  she  selected  was  read,  and  her  chosen 
hymn  was  sung.  They  expressed  consolation  and  triumph. 

Over  the  flowery  turf  which  her  fairy  feet  had  so  often 
trod,  beneath  the  spreading  elms  where  her  play-ground  had 
been,  past  the  green  grove  where  she  loved  to  wander,  through 
the  field  and  by  the  hill-side  where  every  picture  of  the 
scenery  is  blended  with  her  presence,  silently,  reverently, 
mournfully,  the  long  procession  passed,  attending  her  body  to 
the  grave.  " 

Yet  the  robin  sweetly  sang,  and  the  sparrows  blithely  twit 
tered,  and  the  flowers  expanded  their  various  beauties  and 
sent  up  their  sweet  fragrance ;  and  all  nature  smiled  as  if  to 
assure  us  that  God's  laws  were  even  now,  as  ever,  harmoni 
ously  working  out  their  happy  results  of  mercy  and  love,  — 
only  our  eyes  were  too  dim,  and  our  spirits  too  sad,  to  receive 
the  grateful  truth. 
40 


CHAPTER    XLII. 


ANOTHER  year  has  unfolded  its  lessons  of  duty,  of  patience, 
submission,  and  improvement ;  and  another  spring  brings  its 
tokens  of  faith,  hope,  and  love.  Affection's  wounds  may  not 
heal,  but  we  learn  to  endure  them.  Departed  delights  may 
no  more  return,  but  we  hasten  to  overtake  them. 

New  duties  demand  our  attention.  Life,  like  the  historian's 
page,  still  hastens  on.  We  may  not  loiter  in  the  field,  for 
the  harvest  demands  the  sickle,  and  the  reaper  Death  fol 
lows  close  behind  us.  Let  us  hasten  our  work  while  the  sun 
still  shines.  Hasten  your  deeds,  ye  heroes  of  destiny!  Glide 
glibly,  fair  pen  of  history  ! 

It  was  near  the  close  of  a  pleasant  day  of  June,  18 — , 
when  two  travellers  pursued  their  winding  upward  way  along 
the  wildly  romantic  banks  of  the  Saco.  One  of  them,  gentle 
manly-looking,  and  in  the  early  prime  of  life,  rode  in  a  well- 
varnished  "  rockaway,"  whose  easy  luxury  might  have  served 
a  softer  frame.  The  other,  a  stout  and  spirited  horse,  trotted 
briskly  along  the  uneven  way,  and  drew  the  shining  rock- 
away,  as  gay  and  well  pleased  as  his  master ;  and  as  they 
journeyed  he  who  rode  mused  thus  : 

"  Here  am  I  and  my  good  steed  pursuing  our  winding  way 
along  the  banks  of  this  romantic  river ;  and  why  are  not  we 


WOLFSDEN.  471 

and  our  fortunes  fit  matters  for  romance  ?  Were  the  wonder- 
writing  JAMES  apprized  of  our  position,  how  quickly  would 
his  genius  install  us  in  the  long  ranks  of  his  renowned  heroes  ! 
Little  thinks  that  mighty  master  of  rigmarole  what  a  quarry 
he  misses  by  not  following  on  our  track.  Let  us  cast  a 
retrospective  view. 

"  Seven  years  have  I  wandered  from  my  native  home, 
driven  by  unrequited  love  and  unrelenting  fate  —  (so  the  story 
should  read,  though  the  plain  fact  is,  I  went  of  my  own  free 
will).  Many  perils  have  I  encountered,  and  many  achieve 
ments  have  I  performed,  some  of  which  might  deserve  at 
least  a  ballad,  if  a  cheap  poet  could  be  found ;  but  Willis  has 
taken  to  prose,  and  Holmes  to  pills,  and  the  others  are  prob 
ably  above  my  price.  These  scenes  bring  back  early  lessons 
of  economy.  If  I  buy  a  whistle,  it  must  be  a  small  one. 

"  Beneath  yon  beechen  tree,  by  the  side  of  that  rippling 
rivulet,  I  met  the  first  peril  of  my  travels,  which  came  near 
to  prove  the  last ;  but  I  killed  the  rattlesnake  that  threatened 
me,  and  hung  him  for  a  warning  on  that  very  thorn-bush 
which  still  guards  the  wayside. 

"  My  first  adventure  in  New  York  was  worthy  of  Quixote's 
fame,  and  something  more;  for  my  impulse  was  as  good  as 
ever  warmed  his  chivalrous  bosom,  and  my  success  better 
than  he  often  found.  I  beat  the  rowdies  who  would  have 
mobbed  the  women,  and  suffered  no  damage  in  the  encounter, 

"  I  shall  not  omit  to  credit  myself  for  my  flight  from  Count 
Flummery's  palace  of  seduction.  That  flight  was  my  most 
praiseworthy  deed,  for  it  was  my  most  difficult  one  ;  and,  if 
recorded  at  all,  it  shall  be  compared  to  the  retreat  of  Xenophon 
with  his  ten  thousand  Greeks. 

"  Also  I  preached  morality  to  poor  Fitz-Faun ;  but  I  could 


472  WOLFSDEN. 

not  save  him,  and  therefore  I  infer  that  he  was  a  predestined 
reprobate.  It  is  of  no  use  to  contend  against  the  decrees  of 
destiny. 

"  But  I  helped  to  save  the  splendid  Erycina,  who  so  danger 
ously  imperilled  me.  She  is  now  a  good  and  happy  matron, 
with  a  lot  of  pretty  children.  I  claim  the  whole  family  as 
stars  in  my  diadem  of  good  deeds. 

"  What  a  knight  for  distressed  damsels  and  widows  I  have 
been !  Sophia  Greening  may  thank  me  that  I  put  her  deliv 
erer  on  the  right  track  for  rescuing  her  and  winning  her; 
and  widow  Simperkins  owes  the  recovery  of  her  '  hunique ' 
to  my  sagacity ;  but  we  '11  offset  that  against  the  snowdrift 
'  haccident.' 

"  But  Bang's  widow  and  son  owe  me  full  credit  for  my 
labor  of  love  in  their  behalf;  though  Ike  must  come  in  for  his 
share  of  merit  in  the  management  of  Marshy,  which  was  very 
adroit,  and  perfectly  justifiable.  Wretches  who  ignore  all 
honorable  principles  and  rules  of  conduct  cannot  claim  pro 
tection  by  them.  Vermin  are  out  of  honor's  pale. 

'  Who  ever  recked  where,  how,  or  when, 
The  prowling  fox  was  trapped  and  slain  ? ' 

"  Ike  writes  me  that  our  old  minister,  now  a  widower  and 
doctor  of  divinity,  pays  extra  attentions  to  the  widow  Susan 
since  her  fortunes  have  mended.  All  very  natural,  and  very 
characteristic.  It  is  prudent  to  befriend  those  whom  Provi 
dence  befriends ;  it  proves  our  piety  to  be  on  the  same  side 
with  Providence.  I  hope  she  will  profit  by  his  ministrations. 

"  But  I  forget  to  complete  the  summing  up  of  my  own 
good  deeds.  No  matter,  —  they  are  all  recorded,  and  will 
appear  in  the  final  reckoning ;  but  possibly  may  not  figure  up 


WOLFS  DEN.  473 

so  favorably  as  I  am  disposed  to  make  them.  It  is  unsafe  to 
reckon  without  our  host. 

"  I  have,  however,  served  my  employers  faithfully,  besides 
services  rendered  to  others,  including  myself;  and  I  believe 
that  I  have  wronged  no  one  wilfully,  either  in  mind,  body,  or 
estate ;  so  that  between  myself  and  my  fellow-men  I  have  a 
clear  conscience,  which  is  doubtless  an  essential  part  in  the 
great  account.  And  in  the  great  struggle  between  right  and 
wrong,  which  in  a  thousand  forms  is  ever  going  on  in  the 
world,  my  sympathies,  at  least,  have  always  been  on  the  side 
of  truth  and  humanity;  which,  however,  is  no  matter  of  boast, 
for  it  was  not  in  my  nature  to  be  otherwise. 

"  And  now,  after  my  seven  years'  apprenticeship  in  the  world, 
I  return  to  embrace  my  beloved  parents  and  brothers,  and  to 
see  the  grave  of  my  sister.  She  left  word  for  me  that  I 
should  not  weep,  but  rejoice,  for  her.  If  my  soul  were  as 
pure  and  elevated  as  her  own,  I  might  perhaps  be  able  to 
obey  her  request ;  but,  0,  how  much  of  the  loveliness  of 
home  has  departed  with  her  !  Yet  the  dear  remembrance  of 
her  presence  will  ever  be  a  bond  of  attachment  to  the  scenes 
of  my  youth,  and  I  doubt  if  ever  I  shall  be  enough  of  a 
philosopher  to  regard  any  other  place  with  equal  interest. 
How  beautiful  is  the  image  of  her  life  and  death  as  pictured 
in  my  mind  !  How  elevated  and  unselfish  her  thoughts,  and 
how  fond  and  strong  her  affections !  Her  last  message  to 
me,  through  sister  Helen,  was  to  bequeath  her  share  in  my 
heart  to  her  dear  friend  Amy.  Dear  little  Amy  !  how  fond 
was  she  of  Frances,  and  how  much  attached  to  me  !  I  re 
member  that  I  left  my  home^at  dawn  of  day,  to  spare  her  the 
pain  of  parting.  But  she  is  now  no  longer  a  little  pet.  How 

many  of  the  sweet  charms  of  home  I  shall  miss !     Yet  my 
40* 


474  WOLFSDEN. 

father  and  mother  still  remain  in  health,  and  this  is  much 
to  be  thankful  for ;  and  Billy  and  Tommy  I  hear  are  stout 
and  good  boys,  and  ambitio«s  to  emulate  their  brother  Alek, 
whom  they  have  set  up  as  a  pattern.  Well,  we  shall  see 
what  they  can  do." 

Thus,  musing  and  soliloquizing,  our  romantic  traveller  in 
the  rockaway  communed  with  himself,  while  his  horse  trotted 
steadily  along,  making  speedy  progress,  pausing  not  in  the 
upward  or  downward  waving,  bending  way,  —  now  through  cool 
valleys,  arched  by  the  overhanging  forest  and  dusky  from  the 
declining  sun;  now  over  knolls  rising  into  the  smiling  view 
of  approaching  sunset;  now  turning  by  sharp  angles  around 
insurmountable  ledges  of  precipitous  rock,  and  now  in  grace 
ful  bendings  by  the  base  of  some  near  encroaching  hill,  till  at 
length  they  came  where  a  road  turns  abruptly  from  the  river, 
and  a  guide-board  pertinaciously  directs  the  traveller  to 
WOLFSDEN,  as  though  there  were  no  other  place  in  the  world 
where  travellers  need  to  go. 

Our  travellers  obeyed  the  intimation,  and,  ascending  a  hill, 
soon  emerged  from  the  woody  solitude  to  scenes  of  livelier 
interest. 

Behind,  stretching  far  to  the  south  and  east,  lay  the  shad 
owy  vale,  threaded  by  the  winding  river,  along  whose  banks 
hitherto  for  several  hours  they  had  journeyed,  meditated,  and 
soliloquized. 

Before  and  on  either  hand,  near  and  remote,  high  on  the 
hill-sides  or  deep  in  the  shady  valleys,  on  the  level  plains, 
by  the  border  of  wood-encircled  lakes,  and  along  the  fertile 
meadows,  where  slow-winding  streams  loiter  lazily  along  their 
level  bed,  —  by  the  wayside,  or  in  remoter  retreats,  threaded 
by  green  lanes,  and  obscured  by  orchards  and  scattered  trees, 


WOLFSDEN.  475 

a  hundred  homes  fill  and  adorn  the  pleasing  panorama ;  a 
hundred  homes,  recalling  a  thousand  familiar  faces,  and  ten 
thousand  associations  of  early  life.  Even  yet  the  apple-trees 
were  in  bloom,  and  gave  their  fragrance  to  the  gentle  breeze. 
The  rising  corn  had  just  begun  to  mark  the  fields  with  slender 
lines,  and  green  patches  of  various  grains  displayed  their 
young  luxuriance.  Cattle  of  every  color  and  degree — gentle 
cows,  majestic  oxen,  and  defiant  bulls;  mares  sedate,  and  frisk 
ing  colts ;  quiet  ewes,  and  bleating  lambs  —  harmoniously 
shared  their  green  pastures,  and  helped  to  fill  the  faithful 
picture,  and  recall  the  realities  of  rural  Xew  England  life. 

Every  farm-house,  every  family,  every  human  heart,  has 
its  history,  —  its  joys  and  sorrows,  its  thrilling  hopes  and 
trembling  fears,  its  anticipations  and  disappointments.  Life's 
drama  is  every\yhere  in  progress  ;  its  curtain  rising  and  fall 
ing,  ever  closing  and  ever  renewed ;  and,  however  high  or  hum 
ble  the  stage,  still  the  story  is  of  humanity.  Human  hearts 
throb  with  all  that  humanity  can  feel,  and  learn  what  expe 
rience  alone  can  teach. 

Here,  a  newly-married  couple  have  just  begun  life's  career. 
Themselves,  their  cares,  and  their  young  dreams,  are  enough 
to  people  and  fill  with  ample  resources  their  home  and  their 
time.  There,  a  maturer  pair  are  surrounded  and  overshad 
owed  by  a  rising  family  :  striplings  confident  of  untried  pow 
ers  ;  young  maidens  with  timid  steps  entering  upon  life's 
stage,  each  needing  and  receiving  the  correcting  and  support 
ing  aid  of  parental  experience  ;  while,  lingering  among  tho 
busy  bustlers  of  life,  the  gray  patriarch  and  ancient  dame, 
with  silent  care,  perform  the  last  duties,  and  await  the  closing 
event  of  mortality. 

Half  hidden  in  the  distance  toward  the  left,  among  the 


476  W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 

hills  and  the  trees,  the  searching  eye  obtains  the  outward 
view  of  an  unpretending  yet  independent  home, — the  home  of 
three  living  generations,  as  of  other  generations  which  have 
passed  away,  and  perhaps  of  generations  yet  unborn.  There, 
at  this  moment,  the  flower  of  them  all,  a  lovely  maiden,  stands 
at  her  little  glass,  and  arranges  her  simple  toilet.  Her  daily 
routine  of  duties  done,  she  prepares  for  an  evening  walk. 
Though  untaught  by  fashion,  she  is  educated  in  all  that  na 
ture,  truth,  and  innate  delicacy,  can  teach.  Her  neat  and 
dextrous  hands  easily  supply  all  the  ornament  her  native 
beauty  needs.  Her  wavy  auburn  hair  is  combed  with  a 
gentle  downward  curve,  slightly  covering  her  fair  temples. 
Her  muslin  kerchief  protects,  yet  not  quite  conceals,  her  beau 
tiful  neck.  A  well-chosen  and  well-fitted  fabric  of  light  mate 
rial  displays  the  symmetry  of  her  form,  moulded  and  rounded 
in  the  fairest  proportions  of  perfect  womanhood.  Her  eyes, 
radiant  with  intelligence  and  good-humor,  but  softened  with 
modest  diffidence,  look  approvingly  upon  the  faultless  form 
and  features  reflected  in  the  little  glass.  She  turns  this  way 
and  that  in  every  direction,  but  finds  nothing  amiss  ;  and, 
calling  "  Champion,"  the  strong  and  watchful  house-dog,  who 
gladly  obeys  her  summons,  with  gentle  caress  and  light  elas 
tic  step,  she  leaves  the  house. 

She  trips  along  the  green  path,  bordered  by  the  lilacs, 
their  gay  plumes  now  bending  with  superabundant  fragrance. 
High  over  head  the  tall  old  pear-tree  showers  down  its  white 
blossoms,  half  covering  the  turf,  and  giving  a  brighter  yel 
low  to  the  new-coined  dandelions  which  thickly  bedeck  the 
green. 

She  passes  through  the  gate  and  adown  the  road  by  the 
old  stone  wall,  over  which  the  blackberry  waves  its  flexile 


WOLFSDEN.  477 

branches,  and  displays  its  snowy  blossoms,  in  token  of  luscious 
pickings  to  come. 

She  pauses  but  for  a  moment  where  a  narrow  grove  of 
beeches,  fresh  in  the  light  green  of  their  young  leaves,  fringes 
the  field,  and  gives  to  the  wayside  traveller  in  sultry  noon  a 
grateful  shade.  Here,  each  year,  when  October  frosts  open 
the  rough  burrs,  has  she  gathered  ample  hoards  of  nuts  for 
winter  evening's  hospitality,  but  left  to  the  squirrels  and  wild 
pigeons  their  larger  share. 

The  road  descends  and  crosses  a  little  brook,  which  gurgles 
and  glides  and  eddies  along,  among  mossy  rocks,  and  over 
shining  sands,  and  in  deep  pools,  where  the  speckled  trout 
loves  to  hide,  and  dart  upon  the  luckless  grasshopper  betrayed 
upon  the  treacherous  tide. 

From  the  thick  alders  which  border  the  brook  a  partridge 
springs  and  whirrs  away  to  securer  depths.  Champion  jumps 
to  chase  the  escaping  prey,  but  soon  ceases  the  fruitless  pur 
suit,  and  only  wishes  he  had  sooner  been  there. 

The  ascending  road,  fringed  and  encroached  upon  by  ferns 
and  whortleberry-bushes,  at  length  discloses  a  by-path,  — 
the  hypothenuse  of  a  distant  angle.  It  is  a  shorter  and  pret 
tier  way,  and  leads  through  a  grove  of  maples,  where  but 
lately  the  dripping  sap  filled  the  shallow  troughs  of  rifted 
wood,  and,  thence  transferred  to  the  boiling  kettle,  became  by 
rustic  alchemy  transmuted  to  the  yellow  nuggets  which  juve 
nile  mortals  love. 

At  length  the  path  emerges  upon  a  broad  road,  with  well- 
built  walls  of  stone  on  either  side,  enclosing  and  protecting 
far-reaching  fields,  now  springing  in  green  promise,  and  soon 
to  glow  in  gorgeous  array  of  gold,  and  silver,  and  crimson, 
and  purple,  such  as  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  could  not  reach, 


478  WOLFSDEN. 

—  but  soon  again,  alas !  to  be  despoiled  by  the  unsparing 
scythe,  —  relentless  emblem  of  the  fate  which  awaits  all  flesh, 
which  is  but  grass. 

But  youthful  beauty  moralizes  not  thus.  She  trips  along 
and  enjoys  the  lovely  scene  and  balmy  air  of  June,  and  thinks 
not  of  despoiling  autumn.  Champion,  as  regardless  as  her 
self  of  the  destiny  of  dogs  and  men,  now  scours  away  in  long 
excursion,  scaring  blackbirds  and  robins  from  their  grassy 
hiding-places,  and  now  trots  panting  by  her  side.  Happy 
mortals !  No  objects  or  cares  perplex  them.  They  go 
forth  without  expectation,  and,  therefore,  meet  no  disap 
pointment. 

But  events  meet  those  who  do  not  expect  them.  Whether 
unawares  or  anticipated,  the  fate  which  destiny  decrees  will 
find  us.  The  fair  maiden  had  already  sufficiently  prolonged 
her  walk,  and  was  about  to  return,  when  a  carriage  came 
suddenly  in  sight.  It  was  a  shining  rockaway,  occupied  by 
a  single  traveller,  and  drawn  by  a  handsome  horse.  She 
could  not  well  turn  to  go  back  till  she  had  passed  the  car 
riage,  for  that  would  look  like  an  uncivil  avoidance  of  the 
stranger.  She  saw  that  it  was  a  stranger,  and  such  a  one 
as  youthful  maidens  do  not  often  shun. 

The  carriage  approached,  and  the  stranger,  with  deferen 
tial  grace,  bowed,  and,  with  apologizing  politeness,  begged  to 
be  informed  whether  Colonel  Bowler  lived  in  the  vicinity. 
His  look,  and  indeed  his  motives,  were  sincere,  but  his  words 
dissimulated ;  for  he  already  well  knew  where  Colonel  Bow 
ler  lived.  It  was  something  else  he  wanted  to  know,  and 
which  his  penetrating  eyes  seemed  already  to  find  in  the 
maiden's  countenance. 

The  maiden  replied,  unsuspiciously,  but  with  a  flutter  in 


WOLFSDEN.  47U 

her  heart  which  she  could  not  understand,  nor  quite  repress, 
that  Colonel  Bowler  was  her  father,  and  lived  less  than  a 
mile  distant.  It  was  the  first  house  after  turning  the  first 
corner  to  the  left, 

"  If  you  are  Colonel  Bowler's  daughter,"  said  the  hand 
some  stranger,  "  you  must  be  Amy,  whom  I  have  so  often 
called  my  daughter." 

Amy  looked  up  with  surprised  recognition. 

"  Do  you  not  know  Alek  ?  "  continued  he,  alighting  from 
the  carriage,  and  offering  his  hand.  "  Recollect  who  found 
you  in  the  woods,  and  whom  you  used  to  call  uncle." 

The  maiden's  eyes  sparkled  and  suffused  with  artless  and 
earnest  welcome.  It  was  Alek,  —  altered,  indeed,  but  still 
impersonating  the  image  cherished  and  venerated  from  child 
hood.  Alek  saw  his  advantage,  and,  seizing  her  hands,  pressed 
them  to  his  lips  with  many  kisses.  Her  cherry  lips,  and 
blushing  cheeks,  and  radiant  eyes,  looked  as  if  they  had  at 
least  equal  claims.  Amy  forgot  for  the  moment  that  she  was 
not  still  a  child.  Alek  seemed  to  forget  it  too ;  for  he  clasped 
her  in  his  arms,  and  repaid  to  cherry  lips,  and  blushing  cheeks, 
and  radiant  eyes,  their  well-deserved  tribute  of  a  hundred 
kisses.* 

But  her  self- forgetful  ness  was  but  for  a  moment.  With 
gentle  dignity  she  disengaged  herself;  and,  giving  her  hand, 
told  him  that  she  would  accompany  him  home — "Where," 
said  she,  "  your  father  and  mother,  and  Billy  and  Tommy, 
will  be  gladder  to  see  you  than  I  am." 

She  got  into  the  carriage,  and  sat  by  his  side.  He  asked 
a  thousand  questions,  not  one  of  which  was  prompted  by  the 

*  Amy,  who  has  got  a  peep  at  the  manuscript,  insists  that  this  is  an 
exaggeration  by  ten-fold. 


4oU  WOLl'SDEN. 

interest  uppermost  in  his  mind  ;  for  his  heart  and  brain  were 
filled  with  new-born  thoughts  and  emotions,  —  too  immature 
for  present  utterance.  What  were  they  ?  A  glance  at  his 
present  position  may  explain  them. 

He  had  just  returned,  after  years  of  absence  and  enterprise, 
to  the  calm  and  congenial  scenes  of  his  youth.  His  mind,  so 
long  given  to  the  pursuits  and  projects  of  busy  ajnbition,  was 
now  turned  into  a  new  channel,  where  early  feelings,  affec 
tions,  and  sentiments,  cherished,  though  repressed,  were  wait 
ing  to  resume  their  sway. 

His  heart  was  filled  and  expanded  with  tender  emotions 
and  ardent  affections.  His  love  of  home  beat  stronger  in 
his  bosom  as  the  distance  lessened.  Even  inanimate  ob 
jects  shared  his  regard ;  —  the  dumb  animals  seemed  like 
familiar  friends,  and  the  birds  in  the  branches  gave  notes 
of  welcome. 

Attentive  readers,  who  have  retained  the  philosophy  as 
well  as  the  facts  of  this  history,  already  understand  the  moral 
anatomy  of  the  human  heart ;  how,  when  the  warm  emotions 
—  filial,  fraternal,  and  social  love  —  friendship,  patriotism, 
and  their  kindred  train,  crowd  into  and  fill  their  respective 
places,  then  the  whole  sentimental  system  expands,  and  opens 
to  every  generous  impression.  Then  the  connubial  cell,  before 
described,  and  now  accessible  through  a  thousand  enlarged 
channels,  is  prepared  to  receive  its  occupant.  If  at  this 
auspicious  moment  the  destined  one  comes  by,  the  indAvelling 
spirit  recognizes  and  invites  the  life-long  guest. 

Thus,  surrounded  and  swayed  by  the  unseen  destinies 
which  direct  and  control  the  actions  of  mortals  who  fondly 
fancy  that  they  move  with  unbiased  free  will,  Alek  drove 
on,  and  the  fair  Amy  sat  by  his  side,  —  by  the  side  where 


WOLF  3D  EX.  481 

his  full  heart  lay  the  nearest  and  beat  the  strongest.  He 
asked  a  hundred  random  questions  of  things  he  thought  not 
of,  that  he  might  look  in  her  radiant  face  and  hear  her  sweet 
voice  in  reply.  He  saw  —  for  his  quick-discerning  mind 
could  trace  the  true  signs  which  mark  the  abode  of  a  heav 
enly-gifted  soul  —  that  the  face  whose  beauty  delighted  his 
eyes  was  also  lighted  with  the  deeper  and  rarer  radiance  of 
refined  and  expansive  thought.  The  features  and  form  which 
must  attract  all  eyes  was  invested  with  grace  and  dignity 
compelling  respect  from  all.  He  saw  what  a  precious  prize 
awaited  some  happy  adventurer  in  life's  lottery,  and  pon 
dered  how  long  the  golden  moments  of  opportunity  might 
last. 

The  idolized  though  forbidden  image  which  had  so  long 
been  shut  up  in  his  secret  heart,  excluding  every  other  tender 
impression,  was  now  suddenly  obscured ;  for  a  brighter  vision 
filled  its  place,  and  sweet  hope  rejoiced  in  the  change.  He 
rode  on,  and  held  joyful  converse  with  his  fair  partner  ;  but 
not  of  the  subject  which  filled  his  mind. 

And  what  were  Amy's  thoughts?  Tell,  ye  who  can  fathom 
the  female  heart.  The  looks  and  words  were  those  of  undis 
guised  gladness  and  frank  welcome,  —  such  as  a  sister  might 
bestow.  Was  there  a  deeper  and  secret  sentiment?  Who 
can  know,  —  or,  knowing,  would  presume  to  tell  ? 

Their  carriage  moved  slowly,  but  the  moments  passed 
quickly  ;  and,  in  a  space  which  seemed  miraculously  brief, 
they  came  to  the  paternal"  door.  Alek  announced  himself  to 
his  parents  with  fond  embraces,  and  introduced  Amy  as  a 
lady  whom  he  had  picked  up  astray,  and  brought  to  be  iden 
tified. 

"  You  could  not  have  brought  one  whom  it  gives  me  more 
41 


482  WOLFSDEN. 

pleasure  to  identify,"  replied  his  mother,  welcoming  Amy, 
though  a  daily  visitant,  as  warmly  as  if  she  had  been  absent 
a  month. 

Billy  and  Tommy,  atout,  red-cheeked,  rough  and  ready 
youngsters,  full  of  youthful  spirits  and  green  promise,  were 
quickly  present  to  share  the  reunion  ;  and  even  Lion,  now  in 
his  dotage,  by  degrees  recognized  his  old  master,  and  rejuve 
nated  himself  with  reminiscences  of  the  fights  and  frolics  of 
his  days  of  glory.  Joy,  thankfulness,  and  deeper  emotions 
and  remembrances,  mingled  their  sweetness  and  sadness  ID 
the  full  fraught  hour 


CHAPTER     XLIII. 


WHEN  Alek  and  his  mother  were  alone,  and  after  other 
matters  had  been  sufficiently  treated,  she  asked  him  what  he 
thought  of  Amy.  Alek,  with  assumed  indifference,  replied 
that  she  had  grown  finely,  and  seemed  a  clever  girl. 

"  She  is  a  precious  girl,"  replied  his  mother,  earnestly. 
"  I  have  never  seen  one  out  of  my  own  family  whom  I  should 
so  much  rejoice  to  call  daughter." 

To  Alek's  excited  mind  the  remark  had  a  meaning  per 
haps  stronger  than  was  intended  ;  and  he  blushed,  —  not  with 
confusion,  but  with  pleasure. 

"  Surely,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  I  shall  not  be  so  undutiful 
as  to  deny  my  mother  so  reasonable  a  wish,  if  it  shall  be  in 
my  power  to  fulfil  it." 

Thus,  the  first  day  of  his  return  from  enterprise  abroad 
became  the  era  of  more  important  enterprise  at  home. 

But  the  enterprise  was  not  difficult.  It  is  provoking  that 
such  fine  materials  for  romance  should  be  spoiled  by  the  per 
verse  kindness  of  fate.  Never  was  wooing,  and  winning,  and 
wiving,  so  quietly  done.  Like  the  boy's  whistling,  it  did 
itself.  Everybody  saw  that  it  was  an  inevitable  event,  and 
therefore  helped  it  along  with  hearty  good-will  ;  and  those 
who  might  be  most  suspected  of  secret  envyings  were  most 


484  \v  o  L  r  s  D  E  N  . 

forward  to  manifest  their  magnanimous  approbation.  Before 
the  principal  parties  had  proper  time  to  interchange  a  word 
on  the  subject,  their  wedding-day,  with  all  its  circumstances 
and  ceremonials  on  a  most  liberal  scale,  was  debated,  ar 
ranged,  fixed,  and  proclaimed,  all  over  Wolfsden.  Under 
these  circumstances,  an  explicit  understanding  between  the 
primary  parties  became  essentially  expedient. 

"  Dearest  Amy,"  said  Alek,  one  day,  after  several  weeks 
of  closely-cultivated  companionship,  with  mutually  increased 
esteem  and  attachment, —  "  dearest  Amy,  our  kind  neighbors 
have  not  only  given  us  to  each  other  for  life  in  anticipation, 
but  have  actually  appointed  our  wedding-day  for  next  Thanks 
giving.  If  you  will  be  but  as  kind  as  they,  I  shall  be  still 
happier  in  your  society  than  now,  for  I  shall  feel  secure  of 
not  losing  it." 

Amy  was  silent  for  a  few  moments,  as  if  endeavoring  to 
comprehend  the  meaning  of  what  she  heard ;  then,  with  a 
trembling  voice,  though  trying  very  hard  to  appear  natural, 
she  replied, 

"  You  know  I  love  you  very  much;  but  —  indeed  —  really 

—  I  —  this  is  an  important  matter,  and  —  very  sudden  — 
j » 

"  Sweet  Amy,"  said  Alek,  stopping  her  broken  speech 
with  a  kiss,  "  you  shall  not  be  hurried ;  we  will  delay  the 
subject  till  evening  ;  and  now  let  us  take  our  morning 
walk." 

They  walked  through  the  orchard,  where  the  new-mown 
grass  gave  a  smooth,  soft  carpet  to  their  feet ;  along  by  the 
embowered  hedge,  bending  with  ripe  raspberries;  through  the 
grove  where  the  birds  sang  songs  of  love ;  across  the  field, 
and  adown  the  cross-road  to  the  Morgan  estate,  now  pos- 


W  0  L  F  3  D  E  N  .  485 

sessed  by  Jacob,  the  elder  brother  of  Amy.  Before  they 
reached  the  gate  which  led  to  his  house,  Amy  stopped,  and 
pointed, — 

"  That,"  said  she,  "  is  the  tree  under  which  I  left  my 
basket  of  berries,  when  I  went  to  gather  flowers,  just  twelve 
years  ago  yesterday.  This  is  the  anniversary  of  the  day 
when  you  found  me,  and  made  me yours  forever." 

She  looked  up  in  his  face ;  her  own  was  full  of  blushes. 
and  her  eyes  suffused  with  starting  tears,  but  love  shone 
resplendent  and  triumphant  through  them  all. 

"  Mine  forever  !  —  and  may  God  make  me  worthy  of  the 
gift !  "  said  Alek,  with  deep  emotion,  as  he  clasped  her  to  his 
bosom,  and  kissed  her  blushing  cheeks  and  tearful  eyes. 

They  prolonged  their  walk  ;  but  minded  not  whither  they 
went.  There  was  no  need ;  to  them  the  world  was  every 
where  full  of  beauty  and  sweetness.  The  loving  skies  encir 
cled  the  peaceful  earth,  and  the  peaceful  earth  reflected  back 
its  smiles  of  love  and  joy. 

Come,  ye  who  find  the  world  a  dreary  abode  of  moody  dis 
content,  of  harsh  discord,  and  pining  grief,  and  learn  how  it 
may  become  a  home  of  heavenly  peace  and  delight.  Let  it 
be  filled  with  love.  Heaven  is  full  of  it,  and  is  free  to 
bestow  it  upon  the  earth  in  fulness,  would  mortals  but 
receive  it. 

When  Alek  went  home,  he  told  his  mother  of  his  engage 
ment  to  Amy. 

"  Now,"  replied  she,  "  my  fondest  wish  for  your  happiness 
is  granted.  She  is  worthy  of  your  best  affections ;  for  she 
has  the  heart  to  reciprocate  your  love,  and  the  mind  to  com 
prehend  and  associate  with  your  own.  Nothing  is  more 
essential  to  the  happiness  of  a  man  of  refined  understanding 
41* 


486  WOLFSDEN. 

than  that  his  wife  should  be  able  to  appreciate  and  respond  to 
it.  The  sweetest  tribute  to  superior  talent  is  that  paid  by 
a  beloved  wife.  But  when  a  man  of  high  endowments  mar 
ries  a  woman  of  common  or  vulgar  mind,  mutual  dislike  is 
sure  to  follow.  The  husband  naturally  expects  the  deference 
due  to  conscious  superiority ;  while  the  wife,  so  far  from  ac 
knowledging,  or  even  seeing  it,  probably  considers  him  inferior 
to  the  common  kind,  who  belong  to  her  own  level ;  for  them 
she  can  understand,  and  him  she  cannot.  Your  love  will  be 
lasting,  for  your  wife  will  have  the  good  sense  to  perceive 
and  take  pride  in  your  intellectual  powers  —  to  enjoy  them, 
and  even  improve  them ;  for  a  woman  of  good  natural 
endowments  will  aid  to  improve  her  husband's  mind,  though 
his  endowments  and  attainments  be  superior  to  her  own. 
There  is  a  delicacy  and  refinement  in  a  true  woman's  genius, 
whose  influence  is  essential  to  the  highest  point  of  man's 
culture,  as  her  approval  is  to  his  highest  triumphs.  It  is  the 
foible  of  men  of  genius  that  they  scarcely  prize  even  love 
itself,  unless  accompanied  by  respect  and  honor." 

Alek  announced  the  matter  to  his  father,  who  warmly  ex 
pressed  his  approval. 

"  It  is  now  more  than  thirty  years,"  said  he,  "  since  I  was 
united  to  your  dear  mother,  who  was  then  more  beautiful  than 
any  girls  we  see  nowadays,  though  Amy  comes  nearer  than  any 
other  I  know  of.  I  hope  she  will  prove  as  true  and  as  good, 
and  then  you  will  have  the  best  blessing  earth  can  give  — 
one  whose  price,  as  Solomon  says,  is  above  rubies.  I  am  truly 
thankful  that  you  are  to  come  with  so  good  a  girl  to  make 
your  parents'  home  brighter  in  their  old  age.  You  are  much 
richer  than  your  father  ever  was,  or  desired  to  be ;  but  you 
are  above  pride  in  wealth,  and  therefore  arc  not  in  so  much 


WOLFSDEN.  487 

danger  from  it.  I  hope  you  will  always  bo  content  with  the 
home  place.  You  may  improve  it  as  much  as  you  will,  but  1 
wish  that  my  children  may  always  possess  the  home  that  has 
been  so  dear  to  their  parents,  and  so  signally  blessed  to  us  all." 

"  It  will  ever  be  the  dearest  spot  in  the  world  to  us  all," 
replied  Alek,  "  and  when  Billy  and  Tommy  shall  have  finished 
their  apprenticeship  in  New  York,  and  seen  enough  of  life 
there,  they  will  return  to  settle  about  us,  so  that  we  shall  all 
have  opportunity  to  help  and  enjoy  each  other  while  we  live." 

It  should  here  be  explained  that  it  had  already  been  ar 
ranged  that  Alek  should  take  the  home  place,  and  that  Billy 
should  accept  a  place  in  Messrs.  Greening  &  liusset's  agri 
cultural  establishment,  and  Tommy  should  go  into  Mr.  Boyn- 
ton's  counting-room.  Alek's  good  conduct  and  successful 
services  had  opened  the  way  for  these  valuable  situations, 
with  peculiarly  favorable  circumstances ;  and  it  may  be  men 
tioned,  in  passing,  that  hitherto  they  have  justified  the  expect 
ations  raised  by  their  brother's  honorable  career.  But  we 
cannot  pursue  their  fortunes.  Our  history  must  pause,  and 
end  where  it  began  —  in  Wolfsden. 


CHAPTER    XLIV. 


TIME  moves  swiftly  on  golden  pinions.  Many  a  youth  and 
maiden,  looking  upon  Alek  and  Amy,  see  a  more  attractive 
grace  in  their  devoted  though  dignified  and  unostentatious 
affection  than  they  had  before  imagined,  and  sigh  for  equal 
bliss.  Their  sighs  mingle,  and  the  soft  contagion  spreads. 
There  will  be  more  weddings  than  one,  next  Thanksgiving. 
Parson  Boreman,  or  rather  the  Rev.  Dr.  Boreman,  will  be  in 
request. 

But  the  Rev.  Dr.  Borcman's  gracious  head  has  already 
pondered  and  arranged  a  matter  which  must  intercept,  for  his 
own  benefit,  the  benedictions  with  which  he  has  blessed  so  many 
couples  for  so  many  successive  Thanksgivings.  He  means  to 
be  blessed  himself.  But  so  important  a  matter  must  be  an 
nounced  in  his  own  words. 

-It  was  of  a  Sunday  evening,  while  the  reverend  doctor  was 
still  invested  with  the  dignity  of  his  pulpit  dress,  his  robes  and 
lands  redolent  of  sanctity,  and  his  face  radiant  with  his  own 
eloquence,  that  ho  sent  for  Lucinda  to  his  study,  and,  with  an 
air  which  indicated  matter  of  unusual  weight,  thus  addressed 
her : 

"  My  daughter,  it  is  now  two  years  since  your  departed 
mother  left  me  a  mourner.  During  that  time,  as  ever  before, 


WOLFSDEN.   ,  489 

you  have  been  all  to  me  that  a  daughter  could  be,  and  I  have 
been  resigned,  as  it  behoved  me,  to  the  divine  will.  But, 
considering  your  solitary  condition,  without  the  help  and 
guidance  of  maternal  counsel,  my  mind  has  been  led  to  re 
flect  upon  the  fitness  and  propriety  of  changing  my  condition. 
I  have,  therefore,  taken  counsel  with  a  very  worthy  woman, 
and  it  is  appointed  that  she  shall  dwell  in  my  house  as  —  as 
—  as  one  of  its  united  head.  I  refer  to  Mrs.  Susan  Barker. 
I  trust  that  you  will  be  prepared  to  receive  her  as  a  mother ; 
and  I  doubt  not  that  the  —  the  visitation  —  or  rather  the  — 
the  dispensation,  as  I  may  say,  will  be  sanctified  —  that  is, 
profitable  to  us  all." 

Lueinda,  as  already  hinted,  had  read  romances,  and  well 
knew  how  such  announcements  should  be  received  by  dutiful 
and  sentimental  daughters.  She  therefore  gracefully  advanced, 
and,  kneeling  by  his  chair,  kissed  his  hand,  and  in  a  pretty 
speech  prepared  for  the  occasion,  which  she  had  long  been 
expecting,  wished  him  every  joy  in  his  new  relation. 

The  reverend  doctor  was  delighted  at  what  he  considered 
the  happy  conclusion  of  this  embarrassing  .part  of  the  busi 
ness  ;  but,  as  his  own  impatient  congregation  had  too  often 
found,  there  were  more  "  last  words,"  even  after  the  conclusion. 
Lueinda  still  kept  her  position  —  she  had  "a  word  to  add." 

"  My  dear  father,"  resumed  she,  "I  —  I  have  something 
on  my  mind  to  say ;  I  —  I  hope,  as  you  are  so  good  as  to  give 
me  a  new  mother,  you  will  not  object  to  —  to  receiving  her 
sen;  that  is,  Jothani,  as  your  son  —  that  is,  I  mean,  we  have 
thought  of  being  —  being  —  a  '  united  head.'  " 

"What!  you  marry  Ax?"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  hardly 
believing  that  he  had  heard  aright. 

"  Yes,  father,"  meekly  replied  the  daughter. 


490  WOLFSDEN. 

The  reverend  doctor  was  dumbfounded.  Here  was  an  un 
expected  catastrophe.  He  had  not  imagined  an  emergency  so 
out  of  the  common  order  of  events,  and  it  took  some  moments 
to  calculate  the  consequences. 

"  This  is  a  crabbed  text,"  thought  he.  "  She  pays  me  back 
in  my  own  coin.  Who  would  have  thought  of  such  a  plot 
where  all  seemed  so  quiet !  But  it  is  the  way  of  her  sex,  ever 
since  Eve.  Truly  the  apostle  observes,  '  Woman  was  first  in 
the  transgression;'  and  some  able  commentator  says,  that 
'  women  sometimes  lose  their  wits.'  "  * 

Reflecting,  however,  that  it  was  best  to  put  a  good  face 
on  it,  since  opposition  would  provoke  trouble  all  round,  and 
that  Ax,  though  but  a  boy,  was  well  grown  and  a  serious  lad, 
he  gave  his  paternal  consent;  and  Ax  (who  was,  by  Lu- 
cinda's  contrivance,  listening  in  the  adjoining  entry)  being 
called  in,  the  clerical  benediction  was  bestowed,  and  the  busi 
ness  comfortably  concluded. 

*  This  remarkable  saying  is  quoted  in  the  Arabian  Xights  by  tlio 
Caliph  Haroun  Alraschid,  who  declares  that  he  does  not  know  who  is  its 
author.  Dr.  Boreman's  quoting  it  proves  that  his  reading  was  not  exclu 
sively  canonical. 


CHAPTER     XLV. 


TIME  may  have  lagged  with  the  impatient  lovers;  but  it 
shall  not  so  with  the  reader.  Thanksgiving  day  came  in  its 
appointed  season,  with  all  its  budget  of  good  cheer.  To  Col. 
Bowler's  hospitable  house  it  came  with  even  more  than  its 
wonted  preparation.  Ike  had  proclaimed  his  resolution  that 
Amy's  wedding  should  be  celebrated  in  grand  style.  Nobody 
dissented,  and  all  the  younger  fry  applauded  the  resolution, 
and  joined  in  the  preparation.  The  colonel  expressed  himself 
gratified  that  the  spirit  of  Seventy-six  was  still  extant.  The 
Adjutant  volunteered  to  muster  the  company.  George  said 
that  he  would  screw  up  his  fiddle  once  more.  The  guests  were 
invited,  and  the  auspicious  day  came  in  with  glory. 

Elder  Kraken  (the  same  who  presided  at  the  reformation 
meeting,  where  Harry  was  mistaken  for  a  convert)  performed 
the  priestly  office  ;  for  the  Rev.  Dr.  Boreman  had  two  wed 
dings  on  his  hands  at  home  —  his  own  and  Lucinda's ;  but 
the  Elder  did  it  with  zeal,  and  gave  good  satisfaction  to  all 
concerned. 

We  cannot  stop  to  enumerate  the  guests,  nor  describe  the 
various  entertainment,  the  sports  and  the  solemnities ;  but  the 
reader  may  depend  upon  it  that  it  was  a  great  wedding,  just 
as  Ike  had  resolved. 


492  WOLFSDEN. 

Harry  and  Margaret  were  there.  They  came  a  month 
before,  with  a  brisk  little  curly-pated,  bright-eyed  imp  of 
their  own,  who,  being  a  prodigy,  everybody  had  conspired  to 
spoil.  The  grandparents — that  is,  Deacon  Murray  and  wife 
—  were  there.  The  deacon's  gravity  was  as  an  ounce  of  bal 
last  to  a  whole  cargo  of  gayety.  The  Chinbys  were  there.  It 
was  thought  that  much  of  the  motive  of  Ike's  enthusiasm  for 
a  great  wedding  was  to  get  the  Chinbys ;  for,  by  his  con 
trivance  and  Amy's  cooperation,  he  and  the  eldest  of  the 
blue-eyed  daughters  were  groomsman  and  bride's-maid.  Dr. 
Drinkmore  was  there.  He  came  all  the  way  from  New 
York,  at  Harry's  and  Margaret's  invitation,  to  try  the  air 
of  Wolfsden.  He  finds  it  agreeable  to  his  constitution  ;  and 
Harry  remarks  that  the  water  will  prove  no  less  so.  He 
and  Margaret  have  resolved  to  make  a  teetotaller  of  the  doc 
tor.  Mrs.  Simperkins  was  there ;  having  timed  her  annual 
visitation  so  as  to  include  all  such  occasions.  It  was  well 
enough.  The  wise  ancients  hung  up  a  skeleton  in  their  halls 
of  festivity,  to  remind  them  of  their  mortality. 

Some  were  merry,  and  some  were  serious  ;  there  were 
laughter  and  sighs,  mirthful  jests  and  solemn  reflections ; 
every  room  had  its  congenial  circle,  attracted  by  mutual 
affinities.  All  tastes  were  accommodated.  Major  Murray, 
and  others  who  had  a  character  for  gravity  to  maintain,  took 
the  little  parlor  furthest  from  the  kitchen,  where  the  festivi 
ties  of  the  young  folks,  as  ultra  in  their  levity  as  the  others 
in  their  gravity,  became  at  times  uproarious.  The  large 
sitting-room  was  filled  mostly  with  the  middling  or  transi 
tion  class,  —  many  of  whom  sympathized  and  sometimes 
joined  with  the  rantapoles  in  the  kitchen,  where  George, 


WOLFSDEN.  493 

with  his  violin,  somewhat  restrained  and  regulated  their  wild 
spirits  with  musical  harmony. 

The  happy  bridal  circle,  including  the  principal  parties  and 
their  closest  intimates,  and  some  others,  inquirers  or  converts  to 
the  institution  of  matrimony,  were  generally'grouped  together. 
Old  times  and  events  were  recalled  with  new  interest,  and  the 
beautiful  things  of  the  past,  culled  from  its  asperities  and 
garnered  up  in  memory,  were  reproduced.  Margaret,  with 
matronly  soberness,  reminded  Alek  of  their  last  merry  meet 
ing  ;  and,  looking  significantly  at  Amy,  archly  inquired 
whether  the  hero  of  his  "  Match  Story  "  had  not  found  an 
estate  with  not  only  a  better  title,  but  also  a  prettier  pros 
pect.  Alek  was  half  confused  by  the  reminiscence  and  the 
application,  but  owned  that  his  hero  (meaning  himself)  had 
profited  by  the  suggestion  with  which  she  so  ingeniously  fin 
ished  his  story. 

When  the  more  active  sports  subsided,  psalmody  was  sug 
gested.  The  colonel  brought  out  his  bass-viol,  George  brought 
in  his  violin,  and  the  soul-stirring  strains  and  fantastic  fugues 
of  Billings  and  Holden  were  performed  with  the  lofty  energy 
of  old  days.  The  spirit  of  Seventy-six  was  roused.  Harry 
and  Margaret  led  ;  Alek  and  Amy  seconded ;  Squire  Chinby 
and  his  blue-eyed  daughters,  with  Ike  by  their  side,  and  all 
who  had  voices  and  lungs,  joined  in  full  chorus.  There 
was  a  tempest  of  music. 

When  this  was  abated,  match  stories  and  other  stories 
were  told.  We  have  not  room  to  repeat  them,  but  will  give 
one  to  fill  up  this  chapter,  and  attract  juvenile  tastes.  It  was 
told  by  Aunt  Deborah  to  a  group  of  young  and  attentive  ears. 
Aunt  Deborah  always  found  a  time. to  please  and  instruct  chil 
dren  ;  and  Parson  Boreman,  when,  after  exhausting  his  subject, 
42 


494  WOLFSDEN. 

he  finds  a  page  of  his  sermon  left  blank,  generally  fills  it  with 
"  a  word  to  the  young."  Philoprogenitive  readers  will  not 
censure  us  that  we  follow  their  example,  and  devote  a  pago 
to  the  juveniles. 

AUNT  DEBORAH'S  STORY. 

"  A  generous  youth  once  met  a  warm-hearted  maiden.  A 
gleam  of  sunshine,  brighter  than  common  sunshine,  shone 
upon  them  and  the  things  about  them,  and  made  the  flowers 
gayer,  and  the  fruits  sweeter,  and  the  birds  more  melodious, 
and  themselves  more  attractive  to  each  other,  than  they  had 
before  imagined  ;  and  when  they  separated,  the  common  sun 
light  seemed  dim,  and  the  flowers  faded,  and  the  fruits  taste 
less,  and  the  birds  mute,  and  themselves  unhappy.  So  they 
again  met,  and  resolved  to  live  always  together ;  and  the 
gleam  of  bright  sunshine  illuminated  their  dwelling  and 
shone  about, their  path,  and  the  flowers  were  again  bright, 
and  the  fruits  sweet,  and  merry  were  the  songs  of  the  birds. 

"  As  they  continued  to  live  together,  the  gleam  of  sun 
shine  took  various  forms.  When  he  cultivated  his  fields,  it 
ran  along  and  smoothed  the  way,  and  made  his  task  easy  ; 
and  when  he  was  tired,  it  made  even  weariness  pleasant,  and 
rest  refreshing.  When  he  drove  his  team,  it  made  his  steers 
docile  and  obedient,  and  his  colts  gentle  and  willing.  His 
trees  grew  thriftily  and  bore  abundantly ;  his  house  was  filled 
with  plenty,  and  his  heart  with  peace. 

"  And  as  she  performed  her  household  duties,  the  bright 
gleam  of  sunshine  ran  along  and  made  them  light,  and  pre 
vented  all  vexations.  The  cows  gave  their  milk  quietly  and 
abundantly  ;  the  sweet  butter  came  quickly  from  the  rich 
cream ;  the  hens  laid  eggs  with  liberal  hearts,  and  cackled  to 


WOLFSDEff.  495 

give  notice  of  their  timely  tribute  ;  her  stores  of  comfort  in* 
creased,  she  performed  offices  of  charity,  and  her  heart  was 
filled  with  peace. 

"  But  the  demon  of  discord  passed  by,  and  envied  their 
happiness  ;  and  he  came  in  disguise,  and  hid  by  their  hearth, 
and  breathed  forth  a  vapor  that  clouded  the  gleam  of  sun 
shine,  so  that  it  could  not  illuminate  the  house,  and  the  walls 
of  the  dwelling  were  filled  with  gloom. 

"  And  as  the  man  went  forth  to  his  toil,  the  cloud  went 
with  him,  and  his  way  was  rough,  and  his  labors  hard,  and 
his  rest  gave  no  refreshment.  His  oxen  were  unruly,  and 
would  not  obey ;  his  horses  were  vicious,  and  would  bite  and 
kick ;  his  trees  forbore  to  grow,  and  their  scraggy  branches 
were  covered  with  canker-worms,  and  yielded  only  hateful 
moss ;  his  prosperity  declined,  and  his  heart  was  filled  with 
discontent. 

"  And  as  the  woman  toiled  at  her  household  tasks,  every 
thing  went  wrong.  The  cloud  followed  her  from  pantry  to 
dairy,  and  from  chamber  to  cellar.  The  sheep  shed  their 
fleeces  among  the  briers ;  the  cows  held  up  their  milk,  or 
kicked  over  the  pail ;  the  butter  would  not  come,  and  the 
maggots  spoiled  the  cheese  ;  the  hens  scratched  the  gar 
den,  but  refused  to  lay ;  her  cakes  were  heavy,  and  so  was 
her  heart. 

"  And  they  went  out  from  their  house  by  different  ways. 
The  man  took  the  road  that  went  upon  the  hill,  and  the 
woman  took  the  road  that  went  into  the  valley.  And  the 
man  saw  an  eagle  soaring  and  screaming  among  the  cliffs 
as  he  guarded  his  nest ;  and  he  listened  to  the  voice  of  the 
eagle,  which  seemed  to  say,  « I  am  the  king  of  birds,  and  the 


496  vr  o  L  F  s  D  E  N  . 

companion  of  Jove.  I  rule  my  house  iu  fear,  and  discord 
dares  not  to  disturb  my  rest.' 

"And  the  man  said,  '  I  too  will  assert  my  prerogative,  and 
compel  the  obedience  which  is  my  due,  and  discord  shall  not 
disturb  my  dwelling.' 

"And  the  woman  walked  in  the  valley,  and  saw  a  raven 
upon  her  nest,  watching  her  young.  And  the  raven  croaked, 
and  seemed  to  say,  '  I  dwell  in  silence  and  gloom,  and,  though 
I  am  weak,  yet  my  voice  has  power  to  chill  the  heart  with 
omens  of  ill,  and  I  am  feared  by  those  who  are  mightier 
than  I.' 

"  And  the  woman  said,  '  I  too  will  dwell  in  silence  and 
gloom,  and  nurture  my  powers  to  repel  and  assail.' 

"So  the  demon  of  discord  rejoiced,  and  made  strong  his 
dwelling  in  the  hearth  of  the  once  happy  home. 

"  And  again  the  man  and  woman  went  forth  by  different 
ways,  and  the  woman  went  upon  the  mountain,  and  the  man 
went  into  the  valley.  And  the  man  saw  a  dove  by  its  nest,  and 
the  dove  cooed,  and  seemed  to  say,  '  I  bow  my  spirit  in  meek 
ness,  and  rejoice  to  give  joy  to  others,  and  therefore  my  breast 
and  my  nest  are  filled  with  peace.' 

"  And  the  man  pondered  long,  and  various  thoughts  arose  ; 
but  at  last  he  said,  '  I  am  not  a  dove,  and  I  cannot  bow  my 
spirit  in  meekness.'  Yet  he  sighed  for  peace. 

"  And  the  woman  who  went  upon  the  mountain  saw  at  a 
distance  the  gleam  of  bright  sunshine  which  rejoiced  her 
early  days,  and  her  heart  yearned  for  it  to  come  nearer ; 
and  she  ran  toward  it,  but  it  seemed  to  recede,  and  she 
was  fearful  and  faint ;  but  she  stretched  forth  her  hands, 
and  cried,  '  0,  beautiful  sunshine,  come  and  warm  my 
heart ! ' 


WOLFSDEN.  49? 

"  And  a  voice  answered  and  said,  '  I  am  the  spirit  of  LOVE. 
I  dwell  only  with  those  who  subdue  their  spirit  in  meekness, 
and  who  seek  reconciliation  for  offence,  even  though  self-justi 
fying  pride  oppose  it.  You  have  chosen  the  demon  of  discord, 
and  therefore  I  have  departed.' 

"  But  the  woman  cried  aloud,  and  said,  '  0,  beautiful  spirit 
of  sunshine  and  love,  come  back  and  drive  the  demon  of  dis 
cord  away,  for  I  will  subdue  my  spirit  in  meekness  ! '  and  her 
heart  trembled  and  was  sore,  but  the  weight  and  gloom  which 
oppressed  it  passed  away. 

"  And  she  hastened  home,  and  the  gleam  of  sunshine  went 
before  her,  and  her  house  was  filled  with  its  light,  and  the 
demon  of  discord  was  dazzled  and  blinded,  and  fled  from  the 
door. 

"  And  while  the  man  pondered  in  sadness,  he  looked  up 
and  saw  his  dwelling  bright  with  the  sunshine  of  former  days ; 
and  he  hastened  home,  and  his  companion  came  to  meet  him, 
and  said,  '  0,  my  husband !  I  have  subdued  my  spirit  in 
meekness,  and  the  demon  of  discord  has  departed,  and  the 
sunshine  of  love  fills  our  house;  and  even  now  shines  upon* 
your  face,  and  makes  it  beautiful.' 

"  And  the  man  answered,  '  0,  beloved  of  my  heart !  you 
are  indeed  my  better  half,  for  you  have  by  example  taught 
me  what  I  should  do.  I  will  also  subdue  my  spirit  in 
meekness,  and  the  demon  of  discord  shall  no  more  enter  our 
dwelling.' 

"  And  the  man  went  forth  to  cultivate  his  field,  and  the 
sunshine  went  about  him,  and  his  work  was  easy  ancLhis  rest 
sweet.  His  oxen  ploughed  their  furrows  deep  and  straight  • 
his  horses  came  at  his  call,  and  rejoiced  to  do  his  bidding 
his  trees  put  forth  thrifty  branches,  and  bore  abundant  fruit ; 
42* 


498 


W  0  L  F  S  D  E  N  . 


his   garners   were   filled   with   plenty,   and   his   heart   with 
peace. 

"And  as  the  woman  went  about  her  house,  the  bright 
gleam  filled  every  room,  and  her  duties  were  easy  and  delight 
ful.  The  pretty  lambs  frisked  in  her  path,  and  gave  their 
finest  wool.  The  cows  gave  overflowing  pails  of  milk,  and 
sweet  were  the  treasures  of  her  dairy.  The  hens  cackled  to 
give  notice  of  new-laid  eggs  ;  her  bread  was  light  and  sweet, 
and  so  were  her  heart  and  her  life." 


CHAPTER    XL  VI. 


WHERE  are  the  heroes  of  my  story?  Like  the  fleeting 
shadows  thrown  by  the  magic  lantern,  they  have  flitted  over 
the  disk  of  romance  into  the  shade  of  obscurity,  —  into  the 
retreats  of  domestic  life,  or  into  the  spirit  sphere. 

From  my  favorite  window  in  Alek's  house,  which  sister 
Amy's  careful  prudence  and  cheerful  affection  make  so  pleas 
ant,  I  look  upon  a  merry  group  of  children  playing  beneath 
the  trees.  One,  a  "  toddlin  wee  thing,"  is  Amy's  pride  and 
everybody's  wonder.  I  myself  think  him  a  "  remarkable 
child."  Of  the  others,  the  two  biggest  are  Boyntons.  Harry 
and  Margaret  are  responsible  for  them,  and  will  soon  be  here 
after  them.  Harry  has  found  out  that  his  genius  is  for  farm 
ing,  and  the  major  has  given  up  the  farm  to  him.  The  old 
lady's  influence  brought  it  about.  She  could  not  have  been 
satisfied  otherwise.  Too  much  ease  was  her  disease.  She 
was  oppressed  with  too  little  to  do.  Quietude  was  killing 
her.  Now  that  trouble  is  effectually  remedied.  Harry  and 
his  two  boys  and  the  baby  would  banish  the  quiet  of  a  church 
yard.  Besides,  Dr.  Drinkmore  is  still  their  guest.  He  helps 
plan  crops  and  improvements.  Harry  holds  his  opinions  in 
high  estimation.  They  are  "  book-farmers,"  and  it  must  be 
owned  that  they  produce  some  noble  crops,  and  raise  fine 


500  AVOLFSDEN. 

cattle,  though  neighbors  say  that,  were  Harry's  resources  lim 
ited  to  the  proceeds  of  his  farm,  his  genius  would  soon  fail  for 
want  of  funds,  —  but  the  sale  of  Oakridge  supplies  the  sinews 
of  enterprise,  and  the  Boynton  farm,  with  its  cattle  and  crops, 
gets  honorable  mention  in  the  "  Agricultural  Reports." 

But  there  is  no  time  for  details.  We  are  all  to  be  at  the 
wedding  at  Squire  Chinby's  to-day.  Ike .  has  won  the  eldest 
of  those  cerulean  daughters  to  be  his  bride,  and  he  wants  us 
for  witnesses.  All  of  us  are  to  be  there,  —  Bowlers,  Arbors, 
Boyntons,  and  the  rest.  Just  now  a  carriage  comes  over  the 
hill ;  it  is  Harry  and  Margaret.  Dr.  Drinkmore  is  with 
them  ;  they  are  to  call  for  the  children,  and  we  are  all  to  go 
together.  Alek's  colts  are  harnessed,  and  impatient  for  the 
excursion.  Lion,  —  yes,  here  comes  Lion  with  the  children. 
His  faculties  have  lapsed  into  second  puppyhood,  and  he  judges 
himself  still  fit  to  partake  in  wedding  festivities.  Well,  come 
along,  Lion ;  you  are  not  the  only  overweening  dog  in  the  land. 

Hullo,  Harry!  Good-morning,  fair  Margaret!  Still  as 
fair  and  bright  as  in  your  girlhood,  and  a  good  deal  happier, 

—  with  your  pretty  babe  in  your  arms,  and  your  rantapole 
boys  spreading  themselves  around.    Good-morning,  Dr.  Drink- 
more.     Here  are  all  the  children  flocking  to  be  taken  into  the 
carriage ;  and  here  comes  Amy  with  her  cherub,  —  a  match 
for  anybody's.     Ah,  doctor  !  these  pretty  sights  sometimes 
make  us  regret  our  bachelorhood ;  but  it  is  too  late  to  sigh 

—  THE  HISTORY  OF  WOLFSDEN  is  ENDED  ! 


APPENDIX. 


A. 

THE  story  of  Mrs.  Simperkins,  being  omitted  in  its  proper  place,  for 
reasons  there  given,  is  here  appended  by  virtue  of  permission  con 
tained  in  the  following  letter  : 

"  RESPECTED  SIR  :  I  received  your  polite  letter,  and  take  up  my  pen 
to  inform  you  that  I  approve  of  your  printing  the  history  of  Wolfsden; 
for  when  all  the  families  have  their  names  and  connections  printed, 
then  everybody  can  tell  who  is  who,  and  there  will  be  no  mistakes  in 
generations.  In  the  old  country,  everybody  that  is  anything  has  a 
coat  of  arms,  which  is  the  same  thing.  As  you  propose  very  kindly  to 
put  my  name  in  (which  I  consider  very  proper,  being  in  some  sort  a 
daughter  of  America,  as  I  adopted  this  country  from  affection,  and  not 
for  pi-ofit),  I  send  you  my  coat  of  arms,  which  you  may  put  in  the 
book,  as  it  tells  all  about  my  family  ;  and  you  can  get  some  English 
man  to  explain  it,  as  I  do  not  exactly  remember  the  meaning  of  the 
signs,  only  the  figure  on  the  top  is  a  '  vampyre  rampant,'  which  sig 
nifies  that  we  descended  from  the  nobility. 

"As  you  ask  for  leave, to  put  in  my  story,  I  am  willing,  being  in 
some  sort  bound,  as  an  adopted  daughter  of  America,  to  do  something 
for  the  literature  of  the  same  ;  and  I  shall  feel  that  I  have  some  part 
in  the  book,  which  I  hope  you  will  acknowledge. 

"  I  shall  spend  the  winter  paying  the  visits  I  am  owing  in  Wolfsden, 
at  Deacon  Arbor's,  and  Major  Murray's,  and  Colonel  Bowler's,  and 
good  dear  Doctor  Boreman's,  whose  family  are  all  thriving  nicely  ;  for 
Lucinda  has  got  a  fine  boy,  and  her  husband,  whom  we  used  to  call  Ax, 
is  the  best  schoolmaster  in  Wolfsden.  I  mean  to  spend  a  few  weeks  at 
Mr.  Harry  Boynton's,  and  Alek  Arbor's,  and  Josiah  Brown's  that  mar 
ried  Ann  Bowler,  and  Isaac  Bowler's  that  they  called  Ike.  They  all 
used  to  be  wild  young  men,  but  are  now  very  steady  and  sober. 

"  I  hope  you  will  send  me  some  of  the  books  as  soon  as  they  are 


502  APPENDIX. 

printed  ;  and  also  send  a  bottle  of  Dr.  Diddler's  Hair  Dye  and  Remedy 
for  Wrinkles,  which  is  wanted  for  a  friend  ;  and  when  you  see  Mrs. 
Greening,  ask  her  to  send  any  female  medicines  which  she  finds  best. 
And  so  I  remain  your  friend,  respectfully, 

"AsN  AMANDIXA  SIJIPEKKINS." 

The  following  is  the  substance  of  Mrs.  Simperkins'  story,  so  fre 
quently  crammed  into  our  ears  against  the  stomach  of  our  sense  ; 
though,  as  several  years  have  since  passed,  it  is  not  possible  exactly 
to  represent  from  memory  her  peculiar  graces  of  delivery  : 

"  When  I  resided  in  Lunnun  I  became  hacquainted  with  a  great 
gentleman,  who  came  into  hour  shop  in  Cheapside.  I  say  hour  shop, 
because  I  used  to  be  there  hoften  when  Mr.  Simperkins  was  haway  ; 
and  it  was  dull  sitting  in  my  parlor  ha-lone,  and  so  I  used  to  run 
hover  to  Mrs.  Snubs'.  And  when  poor  Mr.  Simperkins  died  I  took 
hup  my  habode  there,  and  elped  to  tend  shop.  Mrs.  Snubs  was  a 
werry  genteel  lady,  and  her  shop  was  the  genteclest  in  Cheapside,  and 
Cheapside  is  the  genteelest  street  in  Lunnuu  —  next  to  Pall-Mail  and 
Covent  Garden.  The  nobility  and  gentry  do  hall  their  business  there, 
and  hit 's  a  gi'and  thing  to  see  the  coaches,  and  the  coachman  hon  the 
box,  with  his  powered  wig  and  white  gloves,  and  the  lords  and  ladies 
getting  hout  to  do  their  business.  And  when  the  nobility  walk  through 
Cheapside,  it  is  a  grand  sight ;  for  one  can  halways  tell  a  lord  by  his 
hattitude  and  hair. 

"  I  was  one  day  sitting  in  the  shop,  when  who  should  come  hin  but 
one  of  the  most  helegant  gentlemen  myheyes  hever  beheld.  He  had  a 
star  and  ribbon,  by  which  I  knew  he  was  a  lord,  and  he  hasked  for 
some  gloves,  and  tried  hon  a  pair  ;  and  O,  such  ands  !  as  delicate  as 
a  lady's,  and  covered  with  diamond  rings.  He  hordered  a  dozen  pair 
worth  twelve  crowns,  and  threw  down  three  guineas  and  his  card,  and 
said  he  would  send  his  servant  for  them  ;  and  when  I  hoffered  change, 
he  refused  it,  and  made  one  of  those  fine  speeches  which  the  gentry 
so  love  to  make,  but  which  I  never  would  listen  to. 

"  I  appened  to  ave  hon  a  werry  fine  bracelet  which  my  usband  left 
me.  He  had  been  hunfortunate  in  business,  but  the  bracelet  was  werry 
waluable.  Hit  was  left  for  security  by  a  werry  great  lady,  who  bor 
rowed  money ;  for  my  usband  was  a  pawnbroker,  and  the  bracelet  was 
presented  to  the  lady  by  the  Prince  of  Wales.  He  said  hit  was  a  hu- 
nique  ;  and  certainly  hit  was  something  wonderful.  Hit  was  made  of 
the  most  waluable  stones,  set  in  gold.  The  centre  was  a  brilliant  dia 
mond,  with  rays  made  of  different  gems  and  pointed  with  diamonds. 

"  I  noticed  that  the  count  seemed  to  hadmirc  hit  werry  much.   I  won't 


APPENDIX.  503 

gay  but  what,  being  werry  young, —  for  that  was  ten  years  ago,  —  I  was 
a  little  wain.  When  lie  was  gone  I  looked  at  the  card,  which  was  en 
graved  with  a  coronet,  and  COUNT  FLIPPER-TON  hunder  it.  In  half  an 
hour  a  spruce  footman  in  livery  came  with  his  master's  card,  and  took 
the  gloves. 

"  Hin  a  few  days  Count  Flipperton  called  again  when  Mrs.  Snubs 
was  hout,  and  bought  some  lace  ruffles,  and  paid  as  liberally  as  before. 
And  about  a  week  hafter  he  came  again  in  a  coach  with  two  smart  foot 
men  behind,  and  led  in  the  prettiest  lady  you  hever  set  heyes  hon,  and 
hintroduced  her  as  lady  Flipperton,  and  said  to  her,  «  My  dear,  this  is 
the  young  lady  I  praised  so  ighly  ; '  and  her  ladyship  gave  me  a  worry 
polite  bow,  and  hobserved  that  she  was  worry  appy  to  be  hacquainted 
with  me.  She  was  much  pleased  with  hour  goods,  and  made  the  great 
est  purchases  we  had  sold  for  a  long  time.  Hevery  beautiful  and  rich 
thing  she  paw  she  hadmired,  and  the  count  hencouraged  her  to  buy  hev- 
crything  she  hadmired,  so  that  the  bill  amounted  to  a  undred  pounds. 

*  When  the  goods  were  ready,  the  footman  took  them  to  the  coach, 
and  the  count  wrote  a  draft  lion  his  banker  for  the  hamount.  I  was 
worry  much  hembarrassed,  for  Mrs.  Snubs  had  told  me  to  take  nothing 
but  gold  or  silver  ;  and  I  told  im  I  oped  he  would  hexcuse  me  on  that 
haccount.  '  Perfectly  right,'  said  he;  '  my  servant  shall  take  the  draft 
and  get  the  gold,  and  we  will  wait.  I  felt  worry  much  hembarrassed, 
but  lady  Flipperton  said  to  the  count,  '  My  dear,  there  is  a  uudred 
guineas  in  the  pocket  of  the  coach,  that  Dobson  paid  for  rent  this  morn 
ing.  You  left  it  hon  the  table,  and  I  hordered  hit  put  hin  the  coach 
for  safety. '  '  My  dear,'  said  he,  '  you  are  hover  careful ;  but  it 's  lucky 
just  now.'  So  he  sends  for  the  bag,  and  counts  hout  ninety  guineas  to 
pay  the  bill,  and  gave  me  two  more;  one,  as  he  said,  for  my  good  looks, 
—  I  was  young  then,  —  and  the  other  for  my  good  behavior. 

"  Just  then  the  lady  hasked  to  look  at  my  bracelet.  I  held  out  my 
harm,  and  she  hunfastened  the  clasp,  and  turned  to  show  it  to  the  count; 
who  praised  it  ighly,  and  then  she  put  it  hon  my  harm  again  werry 
condescending. 

"  When  they  went  away,  I  was  werry  much  pleased  with  making  so 
large  a  sale,  till  Mrs.  Snubs  came  ;  but  when  she  looked  at  the  money 
she  said  it  was  hall  false  coin  ;  and,  sure  enough,  I  could  ave  told  it  for 
bad  money  in  the  dark,  if  I  ad  not  been  so  much  hembarrassed  by  their 
genteel  ways.  Mrs.  Snubs  hasked  me  hall  habout  what  they  said  and 
did,  and  when  I  told  about  the  bracelet,  she  looked  at  it,  and  said  they 
had  hexohanged  it  and  left  a  false  one  made  of  copper  and  glass  ;  and 
sure  enough  it  was  so.  Hon  hinquiry  at  the  police,  we  were  hin- 
forined  that  there  was  no  such  lord  as  Count  Flipperton  ;  but  they 


504  APPENDIX. 

took  the  description,  but  did  not  bring  back  any  goods,  nor  money, 
nor  my  hunique  bracelet." 


B. 

The  account  of  Ben  Blacksmith  is  derived  from  different  sources, 
the  best  known  of  which  is  the  protest  of  the  officers  and  crew  of 
the  brig  Creole,  published  in  the  New  Orleans  Advertiser,  December  8, 
1841,  of  which  the  following  is  a  brief  abridgment : 

"  By  this  instrument  of  protest  be  it  known  that  on  the  second  day 
of  December,  18-11,  before  me  Wm.  Y.  Lewis,  notary  public  in  the  city  of 
New  Orleans,  personally  appeared  Z.  C.  Giflbrd,  master  of  the  American 
brig  Creole,  of  Richmond,  who  declared  that  the  said  brig  sailed  for  New 
Orleans  on  the  13th  day  of  October,  laden  with  tobacco  and  slaves. 

"  That  when  about  one  hundred  and  thirty  miles  N.  N.  E.  of  Ilole- 
in-the-wall,  the  slaves  rose  on  the  officers  and  crew,  killing  one  and 
severely  wounding  others,  including  the  captain  and  first  mate. 

"  The  conspirators  then  compelled  the  crew,  under  pain  of  death,  to 
navigate  them  to  a  British  island.  Ben  Blacksmith,  Madison  Wash 
ington,  D.  Ruffin,  and  Elijah  Morris,  were  the  ringleaders.  These  four 
assumed  command,  and  watched  the  compass  constantly  by  turns.  So 
close  was  their  watch,  that  it  was  impossible  to  rescue  the  brig.  "When 
they  saw  Merrit  mark  on  the  slate  the  latitude  he  was  taking,  they 
compelled  him  to  rub  out  the  writing  and  make  only  figures,  for  fear 
that  they  might  communicate  by  that  means.  The  conspirators  threw 
all  the  arms  in  the  vessel  overboard. 

"  When  we  made  the  light  of  Abaco,  and  the  brig  approached  Nassau, 
the  pilot  came  on  board.  He  and  his  men  were  all  negroes.  They  told 
the  slaves  they  were  free,  and  could  not  be  carried  away. 

"  On  Wednesday  following,  three  civil  magistrates  came  on  board 
and  set  free  the  slaves,  against  the  protest  of  the  captain,  and  gave 
them  their  wearing  apparel  and  blankets. 

"And,  therefore,  the  appearers  do  solemnly  protest,"  &c.  &c., 
Signed  by  officers  and  crew  of  brig  Creole. 


C. 

To  prevent  misconception,  it  is  proper  here  to  repeat,  that  the  lines 
attributed  to  Margaret  were  really  written  by  that  lady,  and  also  that 
a  few  of  the  flowers  of  rhetoric  which  adorn  the  heads  of  some  of  the 
chapters  were  culled  from  Lucinda's  album.  Except  for  these,  and 
what  belongs  to  Mrs.  Simperkins  and  others,  the  responsibility  rests 
with  j.  B. 


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